Past Haunts
by bluebunny28
Summary: Who is that man standing at Neal's desk that Friday morning? Whoever it is, Peter doesn't like him, and neither dooes Neal for that matter. Peter sees the way Neal tenses and completely changes around this man. Who is he! Well, whoever he is, he made a big mistake messing with Peter's family.- Warning Neal whumpage, mentions of past non con!
1. Chapter 1

Past Haunts: Chapter 1

**This is my White Collar fic. I love this show!:) It makes me smile all the time. This and criminal minds. I'm getting ahead of myself, but U think I have an idea for a CM fic. Anyone interested? Let me know. For now, R&R this. It's AU, so disregard anything we have learned of Neal's past so far. (BTW all of my fics will be rated T cause I'm just paranoid. I don't curse in any of my fics, but there might be hints to some past/current non con. Never any description! Just mentioned, and dealing with after affects of trauma, possibly) Anyways, I'm rambling. SORRY! To the story!:)**

**Warnings:**** Oh! and don't kill me! Has Neal whumpage, and some mentions of past non con. as stated above, never anything desrciptive. Read these warnings BEFORE you read please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line. *sigh***

"So, Peter, about that new Impressionism exhibit on 5th Avenue-" Agent Peter Burke held a hand up to stop Neal before he got started...again.

"Neal, we've talked about this. It's outside your radius, and after that little stunt you pulled last week, you're lucky they didn't cut it in half." Neal sighed and looked even more like a pouting child.

"How many times have _I_ said that you should be glad I did that. Finch would have gotten away if I didn't-" He noticed that Peter was no longer paying attention to his pleading but was staring curiously behind him. Neal turned, wondering what could be more fascinating than a Neal Caffrey story in the works, and what he saw made his stomach clench.

A man about ten years older than Peter was wandering into the White Collar Division and stopped at Neal's desk. He had a pile of dark brown hair on his head and blue eyes to rival Neal's. He just towered over Neal's height, and instead of lean muscle, he was still boasting a physique that hinted at being very well built when he was younger.

"Neal, who's that at your desk?" Neal quickly looked over at his partner. He was a con man, he could hide fear easily, but not when something like this popped out of nowhere. He wouldn't look Peter in the eye.

"Um.. Not sure. I'll go check." He moved off, leaving the older man wondering who in the world could have shaken the great Neal Caffrey like that.

**Jones's Desk**

As Neal approached his desk, the stranger looked up with a grin spreading across his face. Peter didn't like that grin; it looked like it was hiding something malicious. Peter especially didn't like the way the stranger grasped Neal's shoulder in an almost too tight, possessive gesture. Neal tensed and that was the last straw.

"Jones," The junior agent looked up. "Yes, Boss?" Peter kept his gaze locked on the two in front of him.

"Do you know who that guy is talking to Caffrey?" Clinton turned to his computer screen.

"No, but I can check." He was already clicking away, as Peter headed towards the men.

**Neal's Desk**

Neal didn't hear Peter walk up behind him. He was too busy trying not to look like he wanted to run out of the building and puke. He flinched in surprise as another meaty hand clamped onto his shoulder, granted this one was a lot kinder than the first.

"So, Neal, you gonna introduce me to your friend here?" The con man turned towards his friend, not anxious to have his back to the other.

"Yeah, sure. Peter, this is...um-" A hand shot out from behind him and it took all of his skills not to flinch and hide.

"The name's John, John Caffrey."

**What?!  
**

"Caffrey?" Peter's eyebrows shot up. After all the time Peter spent chasing Neal, they had never found out anything more than his name and age. 'Neal Caffrey, age 18 ', even though Peter suspected that age was just as fake as his name. Though now his name seemed to be solidifying with this mysterious new plot twist. Neal could see the cogs turning in his partners head, so he took the direct approach.

"Peter, this is my dad." Peter noticed the slight tensing in Neal's shoulders as he said that last word. He subtly put himself between Neal and his...dad as a sudden protective instinct took over. The older Caffrey pretended not to notice and kept on grinning.

"Pleased to me you, Agent Burke. It's good to finally meet someone else capable of keeping Neal in line." Peter's gut twisted at that. _What is that supposed to mean?_ Peter made a mental note to sit Neal down later and have a long chat with him.

"So, what brings you to the White Collar Division, Mr. Caffrey? Are you here to report a crime?" Peter would feel better if the man was just here for business.

"Well, after spending years dealing with Missing Persons, something finally came to fruition, and I found my son after all this time." He clamped his hand on Neal's shoulder again, giving it a supposedly loving shake and eliciting the same reaction as before. This didn't seem like the kind of reunion you would expect in a missing person's case. Neal looked like he really wanted to run.

"Agent Burke, since this is the first time I've seen my son in years, do you think you could let him off work early to spend some quality time with his old man?" The older man looked to Neal expectantly as though waiting for him to help him out. Peter couldn't miss the fear that flashed briefly in his young partner's blue eyes, but it was quickly shoved away, and Neal flashed him one of his famous smiles.

"That would be great, Peter." Without some verbal protest, Peter couldn't see any reason to deny the request.

"I guess that would be alright, but you've still got work tomorrow, so I expect to see you bright and early." The older Caffrey looked like he had just won the lottery.

"Thank you so much, Agent. And don't worry. I'll make sure Neal gets here on time." At that, the two turned and walked out the glass doors. Peter's gut twisted uncomfortably from years of sharpening his instinct. He walked over to Jones.

"Jones, I want you to keep an eye on Caffrey's tracker tonight." Clinton looked confused.

"Uh, sure, Boss. Was that guy really Neal's-"

"I honestly don't know. Run his name for me. See if anything comes up."

"You got it, Boss." Peter looked towards the double doors, silently hoping Neal would bound back in and that nothing had happened. _Neal, what is really going on here?_

**Well? Let me know!:)**


	2. Chapter 2

Past Haunts: Chapter 2

**Thanks so much for all of the positive feedback!:) Here's an early Chapter 2 to express my gratitude:)**

**It's AU with an integral OC, so disregard anything we have learned of Neal's past so far. (BTW all of my fics will be rated T cause I'm just paranoid. I don't curse in any of my fics, but there might be hints to some past/current non con. Never any description! Just mentioned, and dealing with after affects of trauma, possibly) Anyways, I'm rambling. SORRY! To the story!:)**

**Warnings:**** Oh! and don't kill me! Has Neal whumpage, and some mentions of past non con. as stated above, never anything desrciptive. Read these warnings BEFORE you read please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**So, what is going on? Read and find out. (evil cackle)**

**Headed Home**

The elevator ride was tense and silent, as was the taxi ride to June's. Neal didn't want this man anywhere near June or his place, but their wasn't much he could do about it. When they reached Neal's apartment, the older man let Neal lead the way, mocking his attempt at a new life. Neither of them saw the short balding man watching them approach from down the sidewalk. One thing Neal could be grateful for right now was that June was out of town for the weekend. As soon as Neal opened the door, 'John Caffrey's' entire demeanor changed. He sneered at the younger man.

"So, you decided you would start over without me, boy? Was I not good to you? Didn't I give you a roof over your head and clothes on your back? And this is how you repay me? By running off to some random state, changing your name, and, what," His sneer turned into a malicious grin, "making friends?" Neal kept his eyes downcast, but his mind was racing. Maybe he could call Mozzie to get help. Or he could try to get a hold of Elizabeth-

"Look at me, boy!" Neal's eyes snapped up. He saw a familiar anger flash in the man's eyes. He barely had a chance to shield his face when he was roughly shoved up against the wall and held their by a large hand encircling his throat.

"I said, look at me." The voice hissed in his ear, so close he could smell the man's putrid breath. Neal, all light gone from his eyes as he was thrown back into his nightmare, slowly lifted his gaze to meet the matching sapphires.

"There's the good boy I remember. Now what do you say?" The young con man's voice shook.

"It's good to see you..." He stalled. Thinking the words brought bile to the back of his throat. The hand around it tightened.

"_Boy_," he growled, "Say it." In case he needed more motivation, the hand squeezed even harder. Neal finally choked out the words as silent tears fell from his eyes.

"It's good to see you, Dad." The older man's grin widened.

"Now that's what I wanted to hear."

**FBI Office**

Peter spent the rest of the day bugging Jones. He had a really bad feeling about this hole thing. But Neal Caffrey was the best con man he knew. He was probably just messing with Peter, right? This was just another one of his schemes to get out of doing paperwork. Peter sighed. It was time to go home, and he had called El earlier to mention what had happened. He was going to get an earful when he got home. He walked up to Jones's desk ono his way out.

"Jones, anything?" The junior agent showed Peter the tracker's information.

"Nope. Still where he was ten minutes ago boss." Peter ignored the smirk on Jones's face.

"Right. I still have a bad feeling about all this. See you tomorrow."

"Sure thing. Oh, and Peter, try to get some sleep. Don't let Caffrey keep you up tonight." Burke replied as he headed for the doors.

"Very funny, Jones. You'll have to answer to El for that one."

**Burke Home**

When Peter opened the door to his home, he was greeted with the scent of his wife's cooking. All thoughts of Neal flew out of his head.

"El, I'm home. What's for dinner? It smells amazing." She stepped out of the kitchen wielding a spatula.

"Your favorite. I thought maybe a good meal would distract you from worrying about Neal for one night." He smiled and kissed her.

"How did I ever get so lucky?" She giggled.

"I don't know. Maybe you should ask the people you put in charge of my surveillance team." It worked. For the rest of the night, Peter Burke thought only of his wife. He had no idea the turn of events that he would encounter the next morning, and at the moment, he didn't really care.

**Ba Ba Ba BUMMM!**

Once Peter got into work the next morning, he surprised Jones by being in an especially good mood.

"Uh, have a nice night boss?" Peter threw his coat over the back of his chair and jovially went to get a cup of terrible coffee.

"That information is classified." Though the smile playing on his lips told Jones more than enough.

"Ugh. Even that was too much information right there. Well, just so you know, Caffrey was at home all night. No alarms went off, no phone calls from the marshals. Looks like you're getting paranoid, Boss." And just like that, Peter's good mood went out the window.

"You can never be too paranoid when it comes to Neal." The elevator doors opened, revealing a fedora slipping in and quietly heading for his desk.

"Well, that may be true, but here he is." Clinton checked his watch. "And right on time too." Jones walked off to start his paperwork for the day, and Peter stood with his mug debating whether he should talk to Neal. Well, it couldn't hurt. He reached his CI's desk and immediately knew something was wrong. Neal's fedora was pulled down low over his face.

"Hey, Neal. How was your night?" Neal didn't look up at him, just kept working on the paperwork he had started.

"Oh, you know. Nothing too exciting. Didn't rob an exhibit or anything. I'm sure my anklet can testify for me." Neal always looked for an excuse to get away from paperwork.

"Neal, look at me." Instead of drawing it out, Neal rolled his eyes and sat back, going for the annoyed teenager look. He rolled his eyes further when he practically heard Peter's shoulders tense at the bright shiner staring at the agent.

"Neal-"

Neal put his hands up.

"It's nothing, Peter! Look I just-"

Burke's eyes narrowed. _The_ look shut Neal up real fast.

"My office. Now." Neal stood and followed his partner to his office, and Peter couldn't help but notice his friend's limp. He silently opened the door for Neal and pointed at the chair. Closing the door and making sure he didn't slam it in his anger, he sat down in his seat and waited for Neal to start. He refused to look in Peter's eyes, crossing his arms in a pseudo six year old persona.

"Well? You gonna tell me you fell down the stairs or something?" Peter's voice rose. "Cause I am really looking for a good explanation as to why my partner walked in here looking like he got caught up in a prison riot."

"It's nothing, Peter, really. It's New York, and someone decided they needed some extra cash from my wallet. No big deal." The agent didn't buy it for a second.

"Uh huh. So, how's your... dad then? He get caught up in this too?" The con man visibly stiffened.

"No. He's fine. We talked and had dinner. He's staying in one of June's other guest rooms for a while, before he heads back home." Peter sighed.

"Neal, I've been chasing you for three years and have been working with you for one. I know when you're lying." Neal was battling within himself. He could just tell Peter. Peter could help him, protect him. _Who would believe a worthless con like you? Ha! No one. No one cares, and why would they?_ Neal forced himself not to visibly cringe as his dad's words drifted through his head. No, he couldn't tell Peter. Who knew what would happen to him if he did?

**Ooooo! Cliffie! Sorry, but that's all you get for a little bit. Promise more will be revealed. Stay tuned!:)**


	3. Chapter 3

Past Haunts: Chapter 3

**Thanks so much for all of the positive feedback!:) I'm feeling very generous thanks to all of your reviews. I love how a lot of you have a blood lust for Neal's 'dad'. This chapter will reveal a bit more of Neal's past and should answer and maybe create a few questions. (evil grin) Enjoy!:)**

**Warnings:**** Oh! and don't kill me! Has Neal whumpage, and some mentions of past non con. as stated above, never anything desrciptive. Read these warnings BEFORE you read please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**What has Neal so nervous? Read and try not to damage your computer when you try to reach through it to throttle a certain someone. (Hopefully not me!)**

_FLASHBACK..._

"Matthew! Get in here!" Matthew Smithson rolled his eyes at his uncle's voice coming from the living room. _What could he possibly want now?_ Matthew nevertheless complied like he always did and walked into the living room. His nose curled up at the smell of cheap whiskey and takeout. Frank Smithson was drunk. Again.

"Come over here, boy." The young man didn't want to get any closer than the door frame and the grungy man noticed.

"I said get over here!" Matthew flinched, but slowly made his way over to his inebriated uncle. When he was next to the arm of the chair, Frank reached out his hand and stroked the boy's jaw.

"So _pretty_. Just like your slut mother." Matthew tried to pull back, but the hand just tightened, leaving bruises. He couldn't help the whimper that escaped.

"You live under my roof, so you'll leave when I saw you can leave. Now," He brought Matthew's face even closer. "Go get us some rent money." He shoved Matthew a little too hard, and he fell back into the wall, bumping his already tender ribs. He trudged upstairs to get changed. It was going to be another long night.

...END FLASHBACK

"Neal. Neal!" Neal flew back to the present and shot Peter a million dollar smile.

"Present!" Peter was too concerned to roll his eyes. He had never seen his friend zone out like that. Peter wanted to know what was going on in Neal's head, and the only person he felt capable for the job was his wife.

"Hey, how 'bout you come over for dinner tonight? You could bring your dad-" Neal looked ready to jump out of the chair.

"No! Uh... I mean, Dad actually has made plans for tonight, but I'd be glad to come. Unless," Neal's playful facade was back, and Peter sighed internally, "you're not cooking right?"

"No, you ungrateful jerk. El's cooking, and just for that I'll tell her not to make that fancy French desert you like so much." Neal's mouth fell open in a mocking gasp.

"You wouldn't!" Peter stood up and handed his CI a file.

"I would too. Now, do your paperwork, and I'll tell El to add extra chocolate sauce." Neal jumped up at that and with a 'Yes, Sir!' was practically skipping to his desk. Peter's strained smile dropped. His friend really was one heck of a con man.

**Peter's Office Still**

Neal had already left work when Peter was getting up to leave. He told Neal that he had some extra paperwork to fill out and that he wouldn't be late for dinner, but he was actually looking into something. As soon as his CI was gone, Peter pulled up the FBI database and typed in the name 'John Caffrey'. Something just didn't settle right with Peter about any of this.

He couldn't say he was surprised when nothing showed up. So who is 'John Caffrey'? Peter groaned and rubbed his hands roughly down his face as he leaned back in his chair. He couldn't do anything more tonight without causing his wife and Neal to be suspicious of his whereabouts.

"Peter, come to my office for a minute before you leave." The agent looked up to find Hughes at his door beckoning to the adjacent room. Peter's brow furrowed. What could his boss want to talk to him about when they had already cleared up the little issue Neal's stunt had caused.

His boss was seat behind his imposing desk and looked more worn out than Peter had ever seen him.

"You alright, Sir?" Hughes sighed.

"Not particularly, especially when I think about the name you just ran. Is Neal's father really in town?" Peter was a little taken aback that his boss knew what he had just been searching, but let it slide in favor of answering the older man's question and hopefully getting some of his own.

"Yes, Sir. A John Caffrey did show up yesterday and said he came here after using Missing Persons to find Neal." Hughes didn't miss his choice in articles, and just narrowed his eyes at his best agent.

"Well, now we have two Caffreys running around New York City. Keep a close eye on them. The last thing we need right now is to find out Neal got his special talents from dear ol' dad." Peter would have chuckled if his gut didn't clench at Hughes calling that man Neal's dad. Something was wrong with all of this; he just needed to figure it out, and soon.

"Now, get out of here, Burke, and don't let me see your face until Monday morning." Peter thanked his boss and quickly scooped up his jacket.

As the agent entered the elevator, he chuckled as he pictured matching expressions of disapproval on his wife's and best friend's faces for being late. When had this become his life? An FBI agent, best friends with a criminal? Most would look at this and immediately throw Neal back in prison and Peter behind a desk down in the evidence room. But Agent Burke would never regret calling Neal, his CI, his best friend, almost like a son to him. And as a 'father'/mentor, he knew he had to do everything he could to help Neal, even when he wouldn't admit he needed it.

**Neal's Place**

Neal had hurried home in an attempt to beat his dad there. No such luck. John Caffrey was sitting at the kitchen table when Neal came in and gave him a sickening smile.

"Hello, _Neal._ How was work?" Neal dropped his blues eyes to the floor and tried to skirt around the older man. Mr. Caffrey just shot out his hand and caught the younger's upper arm in a vice like grip.

"Uh, uh. Be a good boy and answer the question, and look at me when I'm talking to you." Neal raised his eyes to the man's face then quickly dropped them as he said, "Fine"

"Fine, huh? Did Peter talk to you at all?" Neal hesitated, but realized lying would get him in a worse position.

"Y-yes. But I lied to him. Everything's fine. He invited me over for dinner tonight, and I'll be late if I don't leave soon." John took his free hand and forced Neal to look him in the eyes.

"That's my boy. Now, go get ready, and remember..." He pulled the young man's face to his until Neal's nose almost met his own. He tightened his grip on Neal's face, but made sure not to make the mistake of leaving marks again like last time. "No one would believe you if you told them. You're a con man. It's what you do." He released Neal's jaw only to stroke it once before shoving him towards the door.

"Now, be a good boy, and behave yourself." Neal left his used-to-be sanctuary as fast as he could. In his haste, he flew by a concerned looking Mozzie and didn't even recognize the short bald head and thick framed glasses.

**Outside**

Mozzie held a hand out to stop his friend from trampling him, but only just managed to get out of the way before the younger man ran past him without a word. Mozzie only knew of one person that could make his close friend break his confident mask. He didn't know very many details, but he did know it meant nothing good if Frank Smithson was in town, and he had Neal.

**Well? Sorry for another cliffie! Im just evil like that (loving smirk)**


	4. Chapter 4

Past Haunts: Chapter 4

**Chapter 4! Yipeeeee! So many people like this story, and it makes me smiel every time I see the # of reviews and favs.:) Thanks so much for your support!**

**This chapter is for the people who wanted Mozzie to tell Peter. :) It makes me happy whenever someone wants something to happen next and I already have it written like that. :) Here you go!**

**Warnings:**** Oh! and don't kill me! Has Neal whumpage, and some mentions of past non con. as stated above, never anything desrciptive. Read these warnings BEFORE you read please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**So, what will Peter do to protect his son? Will he get Neal to tell him the truth?**

Peter was getting into his car when his phone rang. He assumed it was El wondering where the heck he was, and was surprised to find he didn't recognize the number.

"Burke." For a moment there was nothing but anxious breathing, and Peter had it in mind to hang up on the creepy breathing perv.

"Suit." Oh. Peter rolled his eyes. It was Mozzie, and he was paranoid about something, as per usual. Peter was about to chew Mozzie out if he was calling to tell him about an Aluminati treasure hidden under the city, then he paused. Mozzie never called _him_. He only ever called El.

"Haversham. What is it?" There was another pause, and Peter could almost see the bald man debating what to tell the agent.

"It's about Neal. I think something bad is going on. I don't know much, but I'm pretty sure someone from Neal's old life is back. Peter, this guy is dangerous, and you know I would rather walk into prison than call you about something." Peter just sat there. Here was his suspicions being confirmed by the person Neal knew the longest and confided the most in, and he didn't even know where to start.

"Look, Neal is coming over to my house for dinner tonight, and I was going to have El help me talk to him. He came into work today sporting a black eye and a limp and made up some story about it being a robbery." Peter sighed and rubbed his face. "If he won't give El and I anything, I'll call you tomorrow night."

A slightly shaky breath responded followed by, "Alright, Suit. But be wary of the thin ice you tread. If this is the guy I think it is, and he's staying with Neal? Just... hurry." Peter hung up the phone and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He finally left the garage and tried to school his expression as he later pulled up in front of his house. His wife greeted him at the door with hands on her hips but a deep concern in her eyes. Peter knew that his eyes could rival hers with equal concern, but as they heard Neal approach, they filed it away for later.

**The** **Burke Home**

"Peter, what took you so long? I thought El and I were going to have to feed your dinner to Satchmo." Neal put on his patented smile. His black eye was still as prominent as this morning, though and threw the carefree look off slightly. Peter forced himself not to stare at it and let his wife berate him some before heading towards the kitchen table.

"I know. I know. Hughes pulled me into his office right when I was about to leave, and I couldn't get away." Not an outright lie. Neal was rubbing off on him a bit too much. El just rolled her eyes and smiled.

"This is what I get for marrying a super hero; late nights and lukewarm dinners." Neal rolled his eyes like a teenager.

"Ugh. Could you two keep the married couple flirting at a minimum tonight?" Peter just shot him a look, and the young man quieted. El left briefly before returning with an amazing smelling vegetable casserole. Neal's eyes brightened, and his stomach growled. He glanced up quickly to see if either of the Burke's had heard it, and inwardly sighed with relief that they apparently hadn't. He hadn't eaten in a while, and didn't want Mrs. Burke fussing over him for it.

**Charming Con and Running Again**

"As per usual, Elizabeth, the meal was amazing." El smiled.

"And as your per usual, Neal, your welcome, you snake charmer." Neal's grin widened. He heard the clock chime and his face fell almost imperceptibly. If Peter hadn't chased him and worked with him for years now, he wouldn't have noticed.

"You can stay, Neal. El made desert." Neal looked hopeful but the clock chimed again, urging him to take his leave.

"Sorry, it's way past bedtime. I must depart. See you at work, Peter." Peter and El shared a look, and Peter called Neal back from the door.

"Wait, Neal! We... uh... we wanted to talk to you about something." Neal paused but turned back towards the dinner table and reentered the room.

"You just can't stand letting me go. I think you getting obsessed, Peter. It isn't healthy." The con man's attempt to lighten the suddenly stifling mood fell flat.

"Look, Neal, about this morning.."

"What about it? If this is about the prison threat, then Peter you should calm down. I was messing with you. I didn't take it personally like you think I do everyday you say it." There it was. That Caffrey smile. Peter saw it, and for once, instead of parental-like frustration, it made him sad. Sad that his little brother was trying to hide pain from him.

"Neal, you know that's not what he's talking about." Neal's blue eyes shot to El who was now crossing the room to reclaim her seat between Peter and Neal. The con man did what he could. He dropped his head in 'shame' and started picking invisible lint off of his impeccable suit.

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Peter." The agent looked at him suspiciously, not buying his act for a minute.

"I forgot to put cream in Hughes's coffee this morning." Neal glanced up and smiled like Puck from Shakespeare's play. Peter was starting to get frustrated, but, luckily, El took the reins.

"Neal, this is serious. What really happened to your face? We all know it wasn't some random mugging." She reached out to stroke Neal's face like a worried mother would, and was surprised when Neal flinched back.

"N-Neal?" Neal didn't miss the hurt look that flashed in El's eyes, and it made his heart ache.

"Sorry. Still stings." He tried his hand at a apologetic smirk, but it fell dead on his lips when he caught the look Peter was shooting him, one of pain, sadness, some pity, and rage.

"Peter, I-" He was cut off by a silently raised hand.

"Don't even, Neal. Don't even try. I know enough now." Neal's eyes widened, but before he could reply, his phone buzzed. It was a text.

_You're late._ He quickly stood to take his leave, refusing to meet either of the Burkes' eyes.

"Sorry, but I have to go." As he headed for the door, he heard the sound of a chair scraping back across the floor.

"Wait, Neal, don't-" Neal involuntarily cried out as a strong grip grasped his upper arm in an attempt to stop him. The grip quickly disappeared and, without looking back, he practically ran out the house.

"Neal!" Peter knew it was too late as soon as he let go of his friend's arm. He paused at the doorway, watching a dark silhouette hurry down the sidewalk. He sighed heavily, closed the door, and dropped his head into his hands once seated next to his wife again.

"I have to call Mozzie. This is bad. Whatever this is, it's bad."

**No, Neal! Tell Peter! Don't run again! But he did, because that's what Neal does.**

**Well? What will Mozzie say? Tune in next week to find out;) R&R please:)**


	5. Chapter 5

Past Haunts: Chapter 5

**Welcome to Chapter 5 :) Here is an early chapter for all of you lovely people who said I was killing them to make them wait another week. :) **

**Warnings:**** Oh! and don't kill me! Has Neal whumpage, and some mentions of past non con. as stated above, never anything desrciptive. Read these warnings BEFORE you read please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**Will we find out some of Neal's past? Who is Frank really? HMMMM...**

**Past Haunts**

Mozzie showed up not five minutes after the call he got from the suit. Elizabeth hurried to answer the door and ushered him in. The short man nearly collapsed in the seat opposite Peter, and gratefully accepted the wine El proffered.

"I was in the neighborhood, if that's what you're wondering." He said on answer to Peter's slightly questioning expression.

"Okay. Well, Neal-" A raised hand cut him off.

"I know. I was nearly run over by him for the second time today. In these kind of situations, Neal tends to have blinders on and just run. He could never handle emotional situations. At least the one's involving his emotions. Anyway, I'm sure you have questions, so, let me start from the beginning with what I know.

_Neal's Past_

**(_Any holes are due to Neal's misinformation or just plain denial of answers. "Mozzie get on with it." "Right, sorry."_)**

Neal Caffrey, of course, is not his real name. He was born Matthew Smithson, son of Jacqueline and... Peter Smithson. They lived in southern Vermont.

_"What?" "Don't interrupt, Suit."_

The whole family had been coming back from celebrating Neal's seventh birthday, when their car was struck by a drunk driver. Neal was the only survivor. The police handed him over to Social Services, and they in turn put him in a foster home, while they searched for any family members to take him.

Unfortunately, they found Frank Smithson. He was Neal's dad's younger brother, who was apparently always jealous of Peter. Neal had never met him before, good thing too, the man was a dirty, perverted, drunk, son of a-

_"Mozzie..." "Sorry." *sigh*_

Neal stayed with him for years. Frank used him to get money for rent and food, and eventually, Neal worked his way up to ripping off tourists and innocent families just so he didn't starve.

One day, Frank was particularly drunk, and when Neal got enough courage to stand up to him, he lost it. Nearly killed him, until Neal managed to knock him over the head with a lamp. He ran and ended up on the streets of the Big Apple. That's where I met him. He beat me at my own game, and I took him under my wing. Besides I couldn't just let a hundred pound seventeen year old wander around-

_End Neal's Past_

"Whoa! Did you say sixteen?" Mozzie looked down at his fisted hands.

"Yeah. Surprise, surprise, he lied about that too. He tried to tell me he was twenty when we met, but I quickly popped that bubble of his. Took him forever to tell me his name, though. Kept insisting I call him Pony Boy." Elizabeth's face pinched up.

"You mean, like from _The Outsiders_?" Mozzie quirked his lips slightly at that and at any other time would have begun spouting lines from the book Neal had glued to his hands for the first year he knew him.

"Yeah. When we met, that was his favorite book. He refused to put it down. Neal probably still has it memorized." El gave a sad smile, picturing Neal-or Matthew?-as a young boy who still had happiness in his life from something as simple as a book despite what he had lived through before. Peter leaned forward though, more eager to hear what happened next.

"So, what you taught him everything he knows? You turned a sixteen year old into a world renown con artist?" Mozzie scoffed at that.

"Hardly. All I did was erase his past and help him become Neal Caffrey to the outside world. And as for his thieving and conning and forgery skills, that, he learned long before he met me. Like I said, Frank used him to get money, so Neal had to catch on pretty quick." Peter sat back, disgusted with this man he had, apparently, met already. "Though I did have to school him, when he started to verge into the white collar area. He was a natural genius and could paint a perfect Degas, but he wasn't refined in the ways of the upper crust." Mozzie paused mid flashback and suddenly looked very like his normally paranoid self.

"All of this is off record, right, Suit? If I wake up in Guantanamo Bay tomorrow-" Peter through his hands up in a placating gesture.

"This all just to help Neal. I swear. Besides I can't arrest you without probable cause, and from what I'm hearing, you only helped a young man escape a possibly dangerous past, and then he made some poor decisions." Mozzie released some of the tension that had bunched up his shoulders, and actually gave Peter an almost grateful look.

"I knew I almost felt a twinge of liking towards you for a reason, Suit." Any other day, Peter would have milked that statement for all it was worth, but now there was something much more important to deal with.

"Mozzie, do you have any idea why Frank is here?" The balding man's face scrunched up in anger.

"No, but from what I know about the-" He caught himself. "He wants something. Something he thinks only Neal can give him, or more likely _get_ him." The pit in Peter's stomach grew.

**Home**

Neal was running away again. It seemed like that was what he always did. He finally paused to catch his breath, and looked around him. He had stopped right in front of his home. _Home._ The thought made his stomach clench as images of his home now being tainted by the same man who ruined the notion for him years ago. Neal checked his watch, knowing that if he missed the curfew Frank had set for him... He shuddered.

Dragging his expensive leather clad feet as much as he could, he made it up to his door. As quietly as he could, he slipped inside, praying that Frank was asleep.

No such luck. He was very much awake. And drunk. _Oh no._

"What took you so long, Matty? I thought I told you to make it quick." Neal's shoulders tensed and his hands shook at the familiar tone.

"I'm not late. I-" The slap seemed to echo in the young man's ears. His head was snapped to the side and added to his trembling, caused him to lose his balance for a moment.

"No back talking! I told you to make it quick." The drunkard paused as he slowly approached Neal. "I also told you what would happen if you weren't home..." There it was. That word again. That word that had taken on such a darker meaning for Neal over the years. He clenched his eyes shut for only a moment, but realized that even that was too long. Frank was a lot closer than he was before.

A grubby hand reached out to trace Neal's cheek bone, only to clench into a fist, when the possessor of said cheek bone cringed away from the touch. Neal saw the punch coming, but this time he wasn't fast enough to get away.

**Well? There is still a bit more to Neal's past that Mozzie doesn't know about. Will Peter find out? Wait and see ;) R&R please:)**


	6. Chapter 6

Past Haunts: Chapter 6

**Welcome to Chapter 6! Here is my normally scheduled update. Not much to say so... Enjoy!:)**

**Warnings:**** Oh! and don't kill me! Has Neal whumpage, and some mentions of past non con. as stated above, never anything desrciptive. Read these warnings BEFORE you read please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**An unexpected someone gets involved. Do they have more answers or questions? HMMMM...**

**Midnight Planning is bad for the Brain**

It must have been only a few hours later, because it was still dark out when Neal finally woke up, in an awkward position on the floor. He clutched his ribs, and made to at least get to his knees, but was unable to do so and proceeded to slide back down to the uncomfortable polished wood. A small cry escaped his lips when his head was sharply yanked up by a hand in his hair. A menacing chuckle emitted from the mouth breathing in his ear.

"Good. You're awake. Now get up, we've got some planning to do."

Neal was hauled up by his collar and deposited into a kitchen chair facing the table. His eyes were still making things fuzzy and wouldn't let him focus on what Frank was pointing at. The next slap cleared his head a bit, enough for him to deduce Frank was trying to tell him about some building he wanted Neal to steal something from... _Wait, what?_

Neal hadn't realized he had said this out loud and flinched in anticipation of the next blow, but it didn't come. Instead he looked up to see Frank's equally blue eyes boring holes into Neal's skull. Those eyes got really close to his, close enough Neal could have scratched those leering eyes out. After what felt like an eternity of intense scrutiny, Frank Smithson barked out a laugh right in his face.

"Don't tell me this is about that FBI agent! You- *HA!* You actually think you're one of them! That they've, what?, accepted you? Befriended you?" If at all possible the ice blue eyes grew even colder. "Grow up, Matty. They couldn't care about a worthless piece of crap like you! I'm the only one who's ever cared for you..." His hand took up its familiar habit of stroking the younger man's face. In his drunken state, and in Neal's most likely concussed one, neither noticed the instinctual cringe Neal did upon contact. "Once you get that into your head, this will be so much easier for both of us."

**Sleeping isn't an Option for Anyone**

Peter and El went to bed that night, but didn't sleep. They were both too worried about the young man they had come to see as friend and family.

"What do you think is going on here, Peter? I mean, I've never seen Neal like this before. Just looking at him makes me want to cry. Frank Bomer..." Even in the dark Peter could see his wife's scowl, "He's hurting him isn't he. Who else would give him those bruises?" Peter sighed for the millionth time that night. He had to calm himself before he even thought about _that_ man, because whenever he did Peter almost reaches for his gun to go use Frank Bomer for target practice. The thought doesn't even make him feel slightly guilty, only smile a bit.

"I...I think so, Honey. Neal's been so defensive lately, but mostly... scared. And that's just... not Neal. You know I can't stand the thought of someone hurting him; he's like... he's like a son to me. I feel like I have to protect him as much as scold him. And please don't think any less of me when I say thoughts of ripping Frank Bomer's head off makes me smile." El gave a rather frightening momma bear-like chuckle.

"Oh, I have to admit I'd like to see that too, as long as you let me use your gun in him." They both chuckled at that, but quickly sobered as thoughts of Neal returned. There wasn't anything they could do right now, but Peter finally fell asleep at two in the morning promising himself and Neal that he would do whatever it takes to put that... horrible man... in jail, for life.

**Bacon and Bosses**

Peter slept in for the first time in weeks. He felt the typical late morning laziness pass over him, and a content smile lighted his face for a brief moment before last night came back to him. There went his morning. El was already up, and from the smell of it, was cooking breakfast. _Hmmm, bacon._

Peter stretched his tight muscles then plodded down the stairs.

"Hey, Hon. What's the occas-" He stopped in his tracks when he saw none other than Director Hughes at his kitchen table. It took him a moment to register that his boss was in his home, and he was in his boxers and undershirt.

"Um..." Hughes had a rare satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he brought his filled coffee mug to them.

"Morning, Agent Burke. I came by to discuss something with you, and your lovely wife offered to make breakfast. Now get that look off your face and put some pants on." Hughes's expression grew serious. "We need to talk about Neal."

El turned to give Peter a sad smile, and her eyes urged him to hurry. She was just as eager as him to know why Peter's own boss was willing to show up at their home to talk about Peter's CI.

Once Peter was seated with his own mug of coffee and fully clothed, the director turned to him.

"Peter, you are one of my best agents, and I must say that you are friend to me as well. Consequently, Caffrey has grown on me quite a bit as well, even if he acts like a perpetual six year old with way too much self confidence." Peter could do nothing but stare to the point where he feared he was being rude. But... this was his house and that was a rather unexpected confession.

"Anyways, I hope this means you'll understand that I would rather not drag the kid's personal life through the office." Peter nodded, but Hughes noted his confusion. "A while back I worked human trafficking and was assigned to a case involving young boys." Peter heart skipped a beat with where his mind thought this conversation was headed. He could tell El paused in her cooking and knew she was wondering the same thing. Hughes sighed and continued.

"There was one boy who wasn't involved in the ring I was trying to bust, but he still tried to help. He had known a couple of the boys from working besides them before, but didn't work for the same... pimp." Peter almost dropped his mug. _This can't be.. Please tell me this isn't true._

"The information he gave us eventually helped us close the case and get most of the boys out physically unscathed, but... He disappeared. The next day there was a headline in the paper reading **_LOCAL GALLERY DISCOVERS FORGERY AMONG COLLECTION. ORIGINAL NOWHERE TO BE FOUND._** " El had come to place plates in front of the two men and looked to be almost in tears, having to quickly lay the plates on the table lest she drop and shatter them. Peter still hadn't said a word. Hughes pushed a file in front of him.

"Haven't seen or heard from him since. Though the other boys told me about his son of a..." He took a deep breath, " his 'sugar daddy'. Said that the man used to drop him off on the corner and leave him there. He wouldn't say a word to any of them for a long time, but they finally dragged a name out of him. Told them to call him 'Pony Boy'." Peter thought he was going to be sick. "After a while, he stopped showing up, and when they saw him again, he said he found a better career path." Peter stared down at the closed file in front ofhim, not meeting his bosses eyes.

"Why are you telling me this?" Peter knew the answer, but he wasn't sure he could handle hearing it. Hughes just took the offending file in to his own hands and opened it up.

"Because, from the boys' description we at least found out who the perp was and the boys name. I think you'll understand why I wasn't happy with the name you ran yesterday." Peter ignored his wife's curious yet puffy eyed glance. He was too busy glaring at a picture of Frank Smithson staring back at him and a very young Neal Caffrey, whose picture Peter was going to be sick over was no doubt from his time in the hospital after the car accident when he was eight. His nausea turned to blind fury as he picked up the old mug shot of Frank Smithson, nearly ripping it into shreds. Frank Smithson was going to die for what he did to Peter's son.

**OOOOOHHH! Protective Peter! So, next week, what will Peter do with this new info? What is Frank planning? R&R!:)**


	7. Chapter 7

Past Haunts: Chapter 7

**This is early in honor of my LAST DAY OF SCHOOL:):)! So yeah, here you go.**

**Thanks to whoever pointed out a little slip up of mine. It is supposed to be Frank Smithson. I originally had it as Bomer then decided to change it.**

**Warnings:**** Oh! and don't kill me! Has Neal whumpage, and some mentions of past non con. as stated above, never anything desrciptive. Read these warnings BEFORE you read please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**Gonna have Peter and El refer to Neal as their son now in the omniscient narration. (just so y'all don't be like, what is she doin'?)**

**Bagels, Masks, and Death Threats**

"Matty, go grab us some breakfast while I finish this up now. You better be ready to listen this time. Now go. I'm hungry." The young con man hurried out of the apartment as fast as he could without looking back. The traffic was at its typical sluggish pace, but what surprised him though was walking head first into Mozzie.

"Oh- So sorry, sir. I'll watch where I'm go- Mozzie?!" The bald man gave him a sad smile.

"Hey, Neal. You do realize that this is the third time you've run into me in the past two days, but the first time you've noticed?" Neal just blinked owlishly, before recognition dawned on him.

"Oh man, I'm so sorry, Moz! Really! I just haven't been in my head lately and-" Mozzie laid a calming hand on his friend's shoulder.

"It's fine, Neal. But you're right. You haven't been you these last couple of days. Is everything okay?" If Mozz told Neal that he knew Frank was there, it would make him panic and get him into more trouble, but he also had to see how much of a grip Frank had on him. He might not have told Peter, but Peter didn't know about his past. Mozzie gave him an encouraging smile. Neal didn't skip a beat and brought out his favorite mask.

"Yeah, just, everything feels crazy right now, you know? Work at the Bureau has been picking up, haven't heard anything from Alex, so I don't know where she is, Sarah and I have been going through a rough patch, her being a model citizen and all." Neal even added flare with a roll of his eyes. "And... don't tell Peter, but.." He and Mozz glanced around conspiratorially, and backed into an alley nearby. _Please, Neal. You can trust me._ Mozz tried not to look too eager for what he thought his young friend was going to confide in him. Neal sighed and ran a hand through his unnaturally messy hair.

"I ran into an old contact, and he was pretty insistent in offering me a job." Mozz did his best not to look crestfallen.

"Well, you gonna take it? The job?" Neal gave him an incredulous look.

"What? Of course not, but you know Peter. If I even say an old friend visited me, he won't leave me alone long enough to go to the bathroom. Our trust is still a little shakey, and I... I don't want to do anything else to hinder its recovery. So, just between you and me, right? Oh, and don't take the job for yourself. This happens to be one of my least favorite old acquaintances." Neal checked his watch, and Mozzie saw a flash of something in his eyes, and the calm, cool Neal shattered again.

"Uh, wow. I've really got to go, Mozz." He hurried out of the alleyway.

"Remember what I said about not telling Peter!" And just like that Neal was gone And just like that Mozzie knew that this was going to be even harder for him to get away from than the first time.

* * *

Hughes left shortly after, thanking Elizabeth for her hospitality and giving Peter a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"I've kept looking for that kid, even after all this time. The case just seemed to stick with me. I wanted to catch the guy then, and now knowing Neal personally, I want to catch him even more. Help Neal, just don't do anything... too 'outside the box'."

Peter barely heard the front door shut, and didn't register anything but burning a hole through Frank Smithson's head, until he heard quite sobs behind him. He shook out of his reverie to find Elizabeth, sitting on the couch crying and trembling. He walked over to her and wrapped her in his arms. She latched on to him like a life preserver.

"It'll be okay, El. I swear it... I'll make it okay." El's grip got even tighter almost making Peter flinch as her finger nails dug into his arms.

"Oh, Peter! My poor baby. How could... how could someone do that! My poor Neal..." Her breath hitched. Then she looked up to meet Peter's gaze with wide eyes. She had just unintentionally referred to Neal as her baby. The realization that both Burkes viewed Neal as more than a friend, but as a son made them both smile. Then a steely determination entered Peter voice.

"I promise you, Elizabeth. I will save our son, and if it leads to it..." Peter paused, but resolution took over quickly. "If it comes down to it, I will kill Frank Smithson myself."

* * *

Neal got back to the apartment with five minutes to spare, balancing some bagels and a coffee. It was for Frank. If Neal had caffeine right now, he would probably just get himself into more trouble. He gets twitchy when he has caffeine, and twitchy with Frank was one of the worst possible things to be.

Frank was in the shower when Neal stepped into his kitchen. He took the precious moments he had to set up breakfast and breath. As he set the coffee and a bagel down on the table his eyes darted over the blueprints Frank had been shoving in his face just a few hours ago. Neal's eyes widened. They were blueprints of the Bureau!

The water had shut off, and Frank Smithson had stepped out with nothing but his jeans on, a towel in his hands to dry his thinner hair some. In his shock, Neal hadn't heard the man approach and jumped at the hand that suddenly gripped his shoulder. He shuddered as he felt the man's bare, and still cut chest press against his back. The warm dampness seeped its way through Neal's shirt.

"I knew you would be interested. After all the things I read about you doing, I just knew you wouldn't be able to pass this up." He chuckled at the younger con man's blank stare. "It'll be just like old times, eh, Matty?" The man patted him on the back, more rough than necessary, and went to eat his bagel and hopefully burn his tongue on the coffee. Neal didn't move from his spot. His uncle wanted him to help him rob from the FBI. What was he going to do?

**I am soo evil and not sorry!:) Luv and hugs to all. I'm sure you'll all appreciate Peter's little death threat there since I hear lots from all of you! **

**Well? R&R:) **


	8. Chapter 8

Past Haunts: Chapter 8

**SOOOOOOOO Sorry! Meant to update yesterday but things happened and... yeah, so... Please don't kill me...(*hides behind door*) **

**Here you go, your regular update (semi-late)**

**Warnings:**** Oh! and don't kill me! Has Neal whumpage, and some mentions of past non con. as stated above, never anything desrciptive. Read these warnings BEFORE you read please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**Junior Agents, Mondays Always Suck, and Shakey Coffee Mugs**

The first thing Peter did was call Jones and Diana over. As soon as he mentioned Neal, they said they would be right over. Once they arrived, they explained that they knew something was really wrong; they just didn't know what. Peter knew he loved his team; they were intelligent in more ways than one.

"So, Boss, what do you need us to do?" Peter looked at his junior agents staring up at him expectantly. He refused the urge to sigh at what he was going to have to do next.

"Right now, I just need you two to listen, and know that what I say now does not leave this house, understood?" Diana and Jones nodded. Just then, Mrs. Burke came out of the kitchen carrying three cups of coffee.

"Thank you, Mrs. Burke. _Mmmmm_. We should meet at your house more often, Peter. The coffee here is a hundred times better than the sludge at work." Peter grinned appreciatively at his wife.

"Jones, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Elizabeth? Honey, I'm going to rest upstairs if you need me. They don't need me at work today, and with everything going on right now, I don't think I'd be able to get anything done anyway." Peter kissed El on the cheek before she left. "The pot's on the counter."

Once El was gone, Diana turned serious. "We're ready, Boss." She braced herself as if preparing to hit a brick wall. _Well, _Peter thought, _it will be the metaphorical equivalent._

"Alright, but, I'll say this now. This isn't easy to hear..." And with that he took the next hour explaining both past and present.

When he was finished the two junior agents just stared. Jones was the first to break the silence.

"Our Neal Caffrey? He... that is never how I pictured his childhood at all. I figured... well I figured it'd be a lot nicer." Jones's eyes kind of glazed over as his imagination took hold of the information he had just been given. Through the whole story, Diana's face had hardened, so when Peter was finished, he was waiting for her coffee mug to shatter and for her to run out of the house with her gun already cocked.

"So his _uncle_ is here? _Living _with him?" Peter had to think of a way to diffuse Diana and fast. The last thing he needed was a rogue agent (who he would have happily went along with) running around New York, in a rage. He held a hand in the air, palm down, towards her.

"Diana, I know. I've been wanting to do the same thing ever since all of this started, but... think about Neal." Diana's eyes narrowed at Peter, which would have surprised him if he hadn't dealt with her in full on mama bear mode.

"I am thinking about him! I'm thinking about all the horrible things that- _man-_ and I use the term very lightly- did to him! I can't just sit here-" Jones was the one to end her rage induced rant, with a gentle hand over her tattoo.

"We know, Diana. Really. But Peter's got a point. Running after Frank Smithson with nothing would more likely cause a lot more harm than any good. This guys obviously has no qualms over whatever he or anybody else does to Neal. He wouldn't hesitate to dispose of him if he saw him as a liability, instead of an important tool right now." Diana's scowl had disappeared and was replaced by one of pure sadness, the likes of Peter had never seen on the fiery young woman. She sighed and looked blankly at her cooled coffee.

"I know you're right. I just..." She paused for thought, then gave a short, soft laugh. "Since when did any of us start to care about Caffrey? I can't stand the thought of anyone hurting him. It makes me want to personally throttle them." She stopped too glare at the two men staring wide-eyed at her. "Don't either of you dare tell him this. I would never hear the end of it. I'm sure he'd even send me an anniversary card with this date on it to me every year." The laughs were able to cut through some of the tension in the air, and with it finally cleared, they could start to work it. A righteous anger settled over the small team, all of them eager to take down the man who had hurt part of their family. Peter smiled.

"Let's get started. First, we need to call Mozzie..."

* * *

While the three FBI agents were planning around her kitchen table, El was busying herself with anything she could think of. Before she knew, it she found herself making Neal's favorite cookies, double chocolate chip. A smile formed on her mouth as she thought of the many times she had to bat his hand away from the still hot pan before he burned himself.

As she was pulling out the second tray of warm deliciousness, there was an unexpected knock on the door. Thinking it better to leave the team be, she answered the door herself. She couldn't contain the surprised gasp when she saw Mozzie on the doorstep. His shirt was uncharacteristically rumpled and his glasses were askew like he had been running and didn't bother setting them straight.

"Mrs. Suit, um..." _Mozzie at a loss for words? Something's wrong._ El grabbed his hand and dragged him through the doorway.

"Moz! What's wrong? Are you okay? You look like you were forced to walk through five metal detectors and then chased by a police dog the whole way here." The bald man shuddered at the thought.

"No need to bring up dark memories, Mrs. Suit. Actually, I need to talk to Peter." He sighed. "I have been brought low and shackled to the very base of Big Brother's pedestal." El had to fight the urge to roll her eyes, when the very man in question came around the corner a surprised yet relieved look on his face.

"Haversham! I don't know why you're here, but you've got perfect timing. I was just about to call you. I've got Diana and Jones here. We need to come up with a plan to help Neal, and I think since you've known Neal the longest and I have just become privy to some new information; we should swap notes and come up with something." He paused before adding, "Off the record, of course." Mozzie just stared at him with slightly widened eyes that tapered off to a sad look.

"Actually, that's why I'm here. I just ran into Neal, and... Peter, it's not good." Jones and Diana had just walked in to see them all standing there, in time to see Peter pale slightly.

"What do you mean by 'not good'?"

"I mean, we better hurry, or this could be worse than we thought."

* * *

Monday came faster than any of them hoped. Mozzie had told the agents of his run in with Neal and how he had even tried to con him.

_'He never does that to me. I mean, yeah, he tried when we first met, but since then he knows I can see right through that. It's like he's been thrown right back to where he started. It's like he's not Neal anymore but Matty again.'_

That caused the agents to worry even more, and to be extra frustrated and harried when Monday morning arrived and they still had no idea what to do. They did white collar crime, not this. The pain in their chests grew exponentially when they saw Neal walk through the glass doors of the White Collar Division extra carefully. Diana couldn't help but see Neal wince when he sat down in his office chair and just lean forward to grab a pen. She walk up to him and hid her concerned look with a mask of nonchalance.

"Hey, Neal. You catch _any _sleep this weekend. For once the great Neal Caffrey has bed head." She smirked at him. This was their typical Monday morning banter before any new cases were brought to them. She wanted to see what he would do. Her heart throbbed when he tried to appear relaxed and carefree, leaning back in his chair and shooting her a wide smile.

"Well, you know me. Always the charmer. My, uh, date hates alarm clocks and turned mine off. Had to rush up here and as for my hair,... must have just slipped my mind." Diana didn't miss the slight wrinkle in his suit or the darker circles under his eyes. Instead of forcing Neal to tell her the truth, she just rolled her eyes like she normally would.

"Hmm. Well, Maybe you should just keep your fedora on today. Want some coffee?" Neal jumped up as best he could and raced her to the coffee machine.

"Yes, please." Clinton came up behind them, obviously on to what Diana was doing, and decided to join in.

"Hey, Caffrey. Wow, for once in your life, you look like crap." Neal just brushed him off.

"Everyone in the world has an off day, Jones. It's called being human, and despite popular belief, I am one." He eagerly poured himself a cup of what, on a typical day, he would call government backwash filtered through the sewage plant. Behind his back, Diana and Jones shared a look. Caffrey hated FBI coffee and did his best to avoid it at all costs. Jones looked up towards Peter's office to see him signaling for the team to gather in the conference room, but there was also a silent message in his eyes to them to keep an eye on Neal. Jones nodded to his boss then turned to Neal and gave him a pat on the back.

Neal almost jumped out of his skin.

"Whoa, Neal! Breath, man. Peter's calling us up. We've got a case. You okay?" Neal rolled his shoulders down slowly and brought his eyebrows back down to his face.

"Yeah, man. But you should know better than to sneak attack a guy who got like three hours of sleep over the weekend. Like I said, long nights." Diana just gave him a calm yet tight smile, and they headed up to the conference room. Neither of them mentioned the way Neal clutched his cup with both hands, tight enough to shatter it, or the way he favored his right leg. Jones saw Diana's fists slowly clench and unclench as they walked up the few stairs.

** Next time on Past Haunts: They have a new case. Will Neal be able to handle going under cover? WHta will frank do when he finds out? (*Fade to Black*)**

**Well? R&R:) **


	9. Chapter 9

Past Haunts: Chapter 9

**Darlings, I must beg your forgiveness, for I will not be here to post next week! I'm going away to a premed program, so I will not have access to my account:( Terribly sorry, but that's the truth:(**

**But... Turn that frown upside down, cause here's an early extra long chapter!:) Hope ya like it. Now... Read On! **

**Warnings:**** Oh! and don't kill me! Has Neal whumpage, and some mentions of past non con. as stated above, never anything desrciptive. Read these warnings BEFORE you read please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**Looking Bad, Looking Up, Look at the Caller ID**

They were all seated as Peter dropped the case file on to the table. A picture of a man flashed up on the screen behind him.

"This is Obadiah Crowley. He is the leader of the Philadelphia crime family, and is suspected in multiple murder cases and kidnaping cases. What is interesting now though is, he has decided to visit New York. There has been wind of an illegal underground auction being held in six days, and they happen to be selling a very rare piece of art that Mr. Crowley is interested in. The other agencies after him suspect he is here for another reason, but think this auction is the only chance they are going to have to get this guy. If we catch him participating in illegal activities, then he can be held while they get warrants for all of his properties and belongings. He hasn't dealt with White Collar before, so hopefully we can catch him by surprise. Neal, we're going to need you to go undercover for this one. I know it's more dangerous than our usual cases, but we need to get this guy off the streets. Are you alright with that?"

Neal heard the double meaning to the question. He wasn't stupid, but that didn't mean he was a-okay with doing this either. This man is very dangerous, and not Neal's typical crook buddy. Besides that, Neal wasn't exactly... up to par at the moment. He could just walk without wincing every time he moved. He inwardly sighed and put on an incredulous mask.

"Of course, Peter. You'll be in the van when I have to actually meet him, and you all know I'm pretty good at running when there's trouble. I'll be fine. Let's get this guy." Neal ignored the flash of concern in Peter's eyes. It was hard enough keeping this up without wanting to tell Peter everything whenever he gave him that look. Peter let out the breath he had been holding, but it didn't do anything to loosen the tight knot that had formed in his chest. He had a really bad gut feeling about this one.

* * *

Peter sat in his office watching Neal. He had been working uncharacteristically productively. He stayed at his desk, didn't take a million unnecessary coffee or bathroom breaks, and didn't wander around the bullpen doing nothing but making everyone else less productive with his searches for distracting conversation.

Peter inwardly groaned. They had nothing to their 'Save Neal' plan as Mozzie insisted upon calling it. What hit Peter hardest though, was that Peter knew that Neal knew that Peter figured at least part of what was going on, and the younger man blatantly ignored it, acting like there was absolutely nothing wrong with coming to work with a black eye and a flimsy excuse, and smothering obvious winces as he walked to collect files, and even the way he greedily drank their sludge called coffee and burned his tongue in his haste to keep himself awake. It was like the real person Neal Caffrey was gone, leaving behind nothing but a con in a fedora and wrinkled thousand dollar suit.

Peter looked back down at the file in front of him. It wasn't the Crowley case; it was the file Hughes had given him two days before. Peter stared at the face he wanted to see bloody beneath his fists and settled for throwing his pen at the offending picture. Frank Smithson looked almost smug in the picture, like he knew he would come back to ruin Neal and Peter couldn't do a thing to stop it.

* * *

Neal knew he was acting off. Even he could see what a bad con he was at the moment. He inwardly groaned as he leaned forward in his chair. Everything hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. Neal rubbed his eyes and picked his pen back up to work on his current paperwork. Yes, they had a new case, but right now all they could do was wait. They had settled everything in the conference room.

_"Obadiah is said to be a big fan of Degas. We have also heard that there is going to be one at the auction, specifically 'Two Dancers on the Stage'. What we need is to spook Crowley. Make him think that buying the real thing is more of a danger to him than making a deal for a forgery. If he buys the real thing, and we come knocking on his door; he could say he thought it was a legitimate purchase. Any good lawyer, and we all know he can afford a few, could get him off with nothing more than a fine. We need to make something stick, so Neal, you're going to have to get into contact with him. Try and get a position in the auction that will get you in direct contact with the buyers. Offer him a forgery you already have of the same piece, after he buys it. We'll truss up false police reports saying that local authorities are very close to obtaining the stolen painting. Then offer to take the real one off his hands and in exchange give him the fake." Neal nodded despite his stiff neck._

"That way he get's caught on buying a known forgery, buying stolen goods-" Peter nodded and smiled as he got excited with the planning.

"And with you at the auction, we have a witness to him being involved in known criminal activities. That should be plenty to hold him long enough for the other agencies to get the more serious charges on him." Neal couldn't resist.

"Hey, Al Capon went to jail for tax evasion. I say either way, he's sunk." With a plan in mind, Peter concluded the meeting. Neal could feel the agents eyes burning a hole into his back as he walked out the door.

* * *

Neal rolled his eyes as he felt even more of his suit jacket being singed by unwanted observation. The last thing he needed was two more people jumping on the 'let's help Neal with his personal life' band wagon. This was his problem. He had to deal with it on his own. Couldn't they see that? Frank is a dangerous man, and the last thing Neal wants is for his friends and real family to get anywhere near the despicable human being. Neal's heart hurt at the thought of what his family would think if they knew the truth. If they knew Neal didn't fight back, just... did whatever that sick man wanted. What hurt even more was that after all of these years, he's still doing it. He couldn't get away from him.

Neal imagined the look in Peter's eyes if he ever found out. Anger. Disgust. Betrayal. He couldn't betray Peter again! He was..._he's like my father_. As soon as he admitted it to himself, a fierce desire to protect his family overcame him.

_I just have to get through this. I can't lose my family all over again. I'll do what he wants, then he'll leave, and they'll be safe. My family will be safe._

Neal could never see that just talking to Peter would be better than what he was going to do. He glanced up at his office in time to see him throw his pen at something on his desk. Neal's brow furrowed. Peter rarely lost his temper. There was that time when El had been- Neal shuddered at the memories. Those had been dark days for all of them.

Neal turned back to the files in front of him. All they were really telling him, was that Obadiah Crowley was a very dangerous man with a taste for art, and that all meant something bad was going to happen. A thought struck Neal. What if something happened to him, Frank found out. Neal's heart rate picked up. Frank would probably kill him for just being late if he was in a mood.

_No. _The young man shook his head. If he thought like that, he'd never get through a day. He had to work this case. For starters, he had to forge a Degas. _This should be fun._

* * *

Peter watched Neal head home early. Hughes suggested he just go home for lunch and stay there so he could get started. He hated having to see him go right back to where Peter knew he was being hurt. Peter wished he could just scoop Neal up and keep him at his house, until Peter was done with Frank. Everything was a crazy mess right now with this new high profile case and Neal... Peter had to do something. But what could he do? Neal had to forge a Degas and go undercover during and in four days! Peter couldn't just say that Neal has to stay with him during that time and- Peter paused.

He could do just that! He was Neal's handler after all. All Peter had to do was say he thought Neal was a flight risk for this case and say Peter could keep a better eye on him in his own home. The higher ups would do anything to keep a con from bringing bad press to the agency. Hughes would automatically approve without asking any questions. El would be ecstatic! And Peter could get Neal away from Frank, and give himself time to maybe convince Neal to press charges. Peter smiled to himself. Operation Save Neal was starting to come together. All he had to do now was fill out the proper paperwork, tell El, and let Mozzie know. Things were looking up.

* * *

Neal wasn't sure how he was going to explain this to Frank. His uncle expected them to plan all night as soon as Neal got home, but Neal had to get started on the Degas. It wasn't like he could just call Mozzie up for a real one (even though Neal is sure Mozz kept at least one). Thinking about Mozz made him cringe inside.

He hated lying to his face, especially in such a blatant manner. He knew he hurt Mozz's feelings, but it was for the best. It would make everything Neal was putting up with for nothing, if Mozz decided to go after Frank in revenge. Neal had learned what revenge could do to someone. He wouldn't let his best friend make the same mistake he did, even if he would greatly appreciate the gesture.

The fedora sporting gentleman snuck up to his apartment like a thief in his own home. No surprise that Frank was already waiting for him at the kitchen table.

"_Matty_." The word sounded like snake venom coming from that man's mouth. "How was work?" Neal was already preparing himself for the blow up.

"We got a new case. I have to go undercover." His uncle only looked at him with a dark amusement sparkling in his eyes. "I also have to forge a Degas, so I kinda have to get started on it now." Neal hated himself for the way he stepped back as Frank stood up and looked him up and down with that sickening smile of his accentuating the small wrinkles on his face.

"Oh, do you? I thought we already had plans tonight, _Matty?_" Neal continued to back up.

"I.. I k-know we did, but.. We only have four days before Obadiah Crowley goes to the auction, and-" A startled breath of air flew from him as his jaw was violently grabbed and brought closer to his uncle's face without warning.

"Who did you say you're going after?" Neal looked back into matching blue eyes and swore, for the first time ever, he saw a hint of fear.

"O-Obadiah Cr-Crowley. He's in town for an art auction and other business. This is the only way to catch him and-" Neal stopped as the breath was knocked out of him. His uncle, startled by the sudden ringing of the phone, had thrown Neal to where he hit his back against the footboard of his bed. Frank Smithson stalked over to the phone, picked it up like it would bite him, then scowled when he saw the caller ID.

"It's that FBI agent babysitter of yours." Neal watched in horror as his uncle actually answered the phone! He wanted to rush up and snatch the devise out of his meaty hands and then beat him over the head with it, but his already fractured ribs made it difficult to breath after his ever so recent 'bout of clumsiness'.

"Agent Burke, to what do I owe the pleasure?" A quick pause.

"Oh, well Neal just got home and just about passed out from exhaustion. You've been workin' him real hard." Neal watched as his uncle's false smile slowly drew down and twisted into a scowl.

"Is that really necessary? Why can't he just stay here?" Neal allowed his brow to curl in confusion.

"Flight risk? But he's-" If possible the scowl deepened.

"Fine. But I want him back in one piece. We had plans for while I was here, and I _just_ got him back. Will I still be allowed to contact him?" His uncle sighed then let his sickeningly sweet charm ooze out.

"Thank you. ... No, that's alright. I understand. It's just I only got him back a week ago and-" He nodded though no one could see him.

"Of course. I'll make sure he's ready to go." Another pause. "Oh no! Don't trouble yourself; I'll make sure he get's there. He'll be there in about an hour. You too. Bye." His uncle calmly pressed the end call button, then proceeded to slam the phone back into its cradle.

Neal shrunk back from his enraged uncle, but the two hands hauled him to his feet and pushed him towards his bed.

"You're spending the next week at the Burke's home. They _say_ you're a 'flight risk'. This all going to cut into our planning, but if you don't go Peter will come by here. I'm sure you don't want him to do that." Neal's eyes widened in fear. If Peter came... if he saw or heard! The young man shook his head fervently, unable to get sound out. His uncle scowled at him.

"I didn't think so. Now, I _know,"_A stare for his ice blue eyes accentuated his claim, "you'll say you won't tell him anything, but," He unbuckled his belt and held it firmly in his fist. "I think I need to ensure that little bit of instruction stays in your brain." Neal couldn't have been ready when the first blow struck.

**Sorry, it's a cliffie, but it's not too terribly bad right? (Begs down on knees) **

**Anyways, Next time on Past Haunts: Will Neal finally be safe or will danger follow him all the way to his family's doorstep? Who will talk first, the parents or the son? Well? R&R:) **


	10. Chapter 10

Past Haunts: Chapter 10

**Lovelies! I have returned as I had promised! And I bring with me... a new chapter!**

**Quick read before I start babbling!:)**

**Warnings:**** Oh! and don't kill me! Has Neal whumpage, and some mentions of past non con. as stated above, never anything desrciptive. Read these warnings BEFORE you read please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**Flight Risk, Son?, and Properly Tossed Salad**

Peter had come home early to tell El his news. Not surprisingly, Hughes had automatically approved it, and El had nearly tackled Peter in happiness. They both saw this as the perfect opportunity to help their 'adopted son'. Peter got settled and prepared himself for the hard part. He had to call Frank Bomer and tell him of the arrangement, all the while keeping his loathing for the man from seeping into his words.

El watched his face as he made the phone call. It was tense and held no hint of the careless content attitude his voice portrayed. Finally, after what felt like ages, Peter hung up and gently set the phone down. El looked at him expectantly.

"Well, what did he say." Peter turned to her, a relieved and extremely worried glimmer in his eye.

"He said he would have Neal over here in an hour." El was relieved but couldn't quite understand why her husband still looked concerned.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Peter sighed and shook his head.

"I'm not sure. He didn't say what kind of state he'd be in when he got here."

* * *

It had been forty five minutes, and Peter was pacing like a mad man in front of the door. Every thirty seconds he would stop, check outside, huff angrily, then repeat the process. Satchmo was watching his master and started to whine. El just patted the golden retriever's head.

"It's okay, Satch. Daddy's just stressed." It was in exactly one hour that Peter stopped, and flung the front door open. There was Neal, standing there with a duffle bag, and a usually disarming grin on his face.

"Hey, Peter. So, flight risk? Really?" Peter stepped aside and observed Neal as he walked by to greet El and Satchmo. The young man seemed stiff or tense, but more than usual? Hard to tell nowadays. Peter forced a careless shrug.

"Sorry, Bud. It wasn't me. Higher ups didn't like that stunt you pulled with the Finch case. Told you it would come back to bite you in the butt." Neal looked over at him to reply, but found he had a hard time twisting his body. To cover, he stood and faced Peter head on.

"Well, what can I say? I wouldn't be Neal Caffrey without the label 'flight risk'." Peter rolled his eyes.

"I know. I chased you for years, remember?" Neal just ignored him and turned to face El. She was having a much harder time acting like everything was fine, and Neal wasn't in pain.

"Sweetie, your room is the one right next to ours. You can go settle in. This isn't going to be prison, but it won't be a vacation either. I expect you to help out around the house." Neal put a hand to his chest.

"Oh, Elizabeth, you wound me." He grinned. "Of course I'll help out. In between case work of course." Peter nodded, and Neal went to put his stuff upstairs. As soon as he was out of ear shot, El walked over and wrapped her arms around Peter.

"Oh, Honey. I don't think I can do this, act as though he's not hurting. It's killing me. Why can't we just talk to him; keep him here until you get Frank out of his life?" Peter sighed and tightened his hold around her.

"I know, Hon. I hate this too, but if we talk to Neal right now, he might bolt again. He always gets into some kind of trouble when he feels cornered, and that's the last thing he needs right now. With him here for five days, well. We can keep him safe this long, and I'll have Diana and Jones and Mozzie keep working on this while he's here. Hopefully, we can get Frank gone before Neal has to go back." El just nodded against his chest.

"I know you're doing your best. I just... I just want to hug him and never let him leave."

"Me too, Hon. I promise, I will protect our son."

* * *

Neal found his room and nearly collapsed on the bed. His back felt like Frank had dumped gasoline on it and set it on fire with one of his nasty cigarettes. He was tempted to ask El for some aspirin, but he knew they were already watching him. If he even hinted at not feeling well, Peter would pull him off the case, and then go digging where he shouldn't be.

No. Better to just work through it. This was nothing. He could handle it. Frank's swing wasn't even as strong as it used to be. That's kept the con man going. He was strong now, not some scrawny nobody kid who couldn't defend himself. Besides, he had other people to protect now. If Frank found out that Peter knew something...anything... Neal shuddered. He couldn't let it come even remotely close to that.

He glanced at the clock and realized, he had been up there longer than he meant to. Neal was headed back downstairs, when he heard Peter and El talking. He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, but this sounded important, and he didn't want to interrupt. What he heard next made him freeze on the stairs.

_"I promise, I will protect our son."_ Neal's eyes widened. What was he supposed to do?! He had warring emotions inside of him. Confusion-_are they talking about me or someone else?_ Frustration-_who else would they be talking about? That's a stupid thought. But what if it isn't me, and I make some giant fool of myself and ruin everything?_ Fear-_ if Frank hears any of this..._ Anger-_They're my family, not Frank. I hate that man._ Hope-_could Peter...help?_ Love-_ they see me as family too! Oh my Gosh... I could actually have a family again. _But despite all of these thoughts, something more physical brought the fear forefront.

As he moved, he felt his back flame, and it pressed back into his mind the one thing he had given himself over to a long time ago... Resignation. His eyes dropped, as he let go of his moment of pure happiness and sense of hope.

_I can't acknowledge this, or encourage it. I can't let Frank hurt them, because I know he would if he caught wind of anything like this. Even _**_if_ **_Frank left when the job was over, it's not like Peter and Elizabeth's feelings would continue. This is just some under-used paternal instincts they have from not having their own children, and seeing my black eye the other day. Besides, they do not need someone like me ruining their relationship and lives. A criminal in the family? Yeah, right. I'm no good for people like them. Good people. It's better this way. Just simple friends. Friends._

He was so lost in thought he didn't hear Peter and El separate, or El head to the kitchen, and Peter towards the stairs he was standing on.

"Hey, Neal! Lunch is ready! Ya hungry?" Neal waited a moment before continuing his path, as though he hadn't been standing there the whole time. _Nothing happened Nothing happened._

"Starved." Peter wasn't looking at him any differently. _Good. Let's keep it that way. _Neal walked into the kitchen and sat in the same chair he had a couple nights ago.

"You're not just gonna sit there and be served Neal. Just cause you have to stay here for five days, doesn't mean this is a hotel." Neal looked up, blushed, and went to help El and Peter in the kitchen.

"Sorry. Not my intention at all." It wasn't to be honest. Neal was just so tired and felt like he was ready to collapse any minute. Peter felt bad when he saw how tired Neal was. The agent was just trying to act normal. He didn't want to see Neal hurt, but right now, he knew the young man in front of him would not react positively if confronted. Neal had to hide a wince when carrying a slightly heavy bowl to the table worked some abused back muscles. Despite what he thought, it didn't go unnoticed.

"Neal, Sweetie, actually could you toss the salad for me while I grab the chicken out of the oven? Peter, set the table, will you dear?" Neal gladly changed tasks and tossed the salad with as much vigor as possible. He heard the chuckle and giggle behind him.

"Neal, this isn't a sitcom. You don't have to play with the food." Neal just picked up the, thankfully, considerably lighter bowl, and rolled his eyes at his mentor.

"Peter, I can't say I'm surprised that you probably fell asleep during the cooking shows El puts on when I leave, but I'd think that even you would know how to properly toss salad." Peter just took the bowl from his hands, and they all sat around the table.

"Sorry. I thought you were just supposed to eat the food, not do acrobatics with it. How do you know that's how you 'properly toss salad'?" Neal gave him a small smile.

"Well, when you have to pretend to be a famous chef catering to an exhibit showing off their newly acquired Monet and Gauguin that you have your eyes on... You at least have to learn the basics of high end cooking. Including how to properly toss salad." Peter sat there, fork stopped mid air.

"That was you? We thought you were in Astonia then. Paris? Really?" Neal just smiled and asked El to pass the salad.

* * *

**Just a nice little fluffy bit at the end for you before the angst of the next few chapters. Who knows, the moment you've all been waiting for, might just be in the next chap... You'll just have to read it when it comes to find out ;) ****Well? R&R:) **

**PS I don't know if there really is a way to properly toss salad. I'm Peter. I just eat the food. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

Past Haunts: Chapter 11

**See profile for general AN's. (please go take a look)**

**AN: Thanks to BlueDiamondStar for making me laugh out loud at my mistake in the previous chapter. I just picked a random country, and I misspelled it! I meant to write Estonia. When I read your comment, I couldn't believe my blunder and actually looked to see if there really is an Astonia. I think there is a city in NY by that name, but the main thing, and this made me lose it, was a video game fantasy world. I could not believe it! So, sorry! Misspelling comes with some interesting consequences! Thank you for inadvertently correcting me and bringing me a good amount of laughs for the day.:)**

**Warnings:**** Neal whumpage, and some mentions of past non con. there may be triggers in this story from abuse sections. I apologize for not mentioning this earlier.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**New York Taxis, A Forger at Work, and Bad Mental Images**

Neal helped clean up the dishes afterward. Thank goodness the Burkes didn't have him put the plates and heavy bowls away. All they had him do was dry and pass the plates to Peter. Neal was unbelievably grateful. He wasn't sure he could handle much more that day, but he knew they had to work on the case. He passed Peter the last plate and leaned back against the damp kitchen counter.

"So, Peter, I didn't have time to grab supplies to pull of this Degas, but I need to get started on it, like now. Just point me in a direction, and I'll call Mozz to-" El placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Already done. I figured you would need supplies anyway, so I called Mozzie just a little bit before you got here. He should be here any minute." Neal couldn't help but stare at the amazing woman in front of him. Without taking his widened eyes off of her smirking face, he said, "Peter, if you ever do anything stupid, remember to give El my address again. How the heck are you so lucky?" Peter chuckled and clapped a hand, surprisingly gently, on the young man's shoulder.

"First off, no way in heck. Second, well I like to think of it as the Burke charm. Same thing happened to my dad. He found the perfect woman, and she managed to put up with him for forty years before he died." Neal smiled as he saw the love flowing between the two, but he also couldn't stop the pang of jealousy and hurt and loneliness. Looking back, he saw that what he had with Kate was nothing like this, just a fantasy built up in his head. A knock at the door broke the moment.

"Mr. And Mrs. Suit, I can feel the sickening ooze of government sanctioned feelings all the way out here! If you can pause for a moment, could you help me get this stuff inside?!" Neal rolled his eyes in sync with Peter, before they both went to answer the door.

The door swung open to reveal a comically burdened Mozzie with a tomato red face, his large glasses slowly slipping off his nose from the sweat building up under the support frame.

"Took you long enough! Do you know how far I had to drag this here?" Peter gave the short man an incredulous look as he took a large wooden easel out of his arms.

"You said you were five minutes away." Neal had to squelch the laughter that threatened to burst out at the look Mozz gave the agent.

"This is New York City! Five minutes means it will take me five minutes to get five feet by taxi! I refuse to sit in the back of those germ infested cess pools, so I walked. What I didn't know was they were doing construction on the sidewalk, sidewalk!, of fifth, so I had to cut all the way around to go through the park, but the park was closed, because they were setting up for some awful folksy concert, so I-"

"Mozz! We get it. Long walk. Thanks though." As Neal reached out to take the paints and brushes from Mozzie, he raised his brows when his friend pulled back.

"Mozz, I can-" Mozzie simply shook his hand at him and walked past. Neal didn't see the look his two friends shared behind his back. Once all the supplies were set up in an open space between the kitchen and dining room, Mozzie looked around and sighed.

"I am sorry, _mon feir,_ (probs spelled that totally wrong! Sorry) but I must be off. Let me know if you need anything else." And with that Mozz was gone. Neal didn't even get to say goodbye. He turned to Peter.

"That was... odd, even for Mozzie." The agent simply shrugged it off.

"Maybe he decided to mess with us and have a non-Mozzie day. I can never tell with him." With a small shrug of his shoulders, Neal accepted it (he was too tired to argue) and examined the supplies.

"This is everything, but... oven's too small... Elizabeth, I'm going to need to use your hair dryer to help age this." El nodded eagerly.

"I can't wait to see how the great Neal Caffrey does it. Would it bother you if I watch?" Neal was grinning wide enough to compete with the Cheshire cat, and Peter scowled.

"Don't encourage him, Hon. The last thing we need is a con who forges, because he thinks people want him too."

"Aw, come on, Peter. El, just appreciates art in the making." El nodded as enthusiastically as the first time.

"That's right. Especially such a masterpiece like Degas." Peter just threw his hands up and threw himself down on the couch to put the game on.

"You two have fun breaking the law, _for a case don't forget_, and I'll just enjoy my basketball. Oh, and Neal, we're gathering more info on Crowley as we speak ,but it's taking longer than the techs thought. So we should have more to give you for your undercover op in a day or two. Hughes is giving you that time off to get ahead on your Degas." Neal couldn't believe it. Hughes was giving _him_ time off to work on a forgery? That had to be a first. Typically, he was just expected to get it done in his after work hours, but he had to admit, with his sore body (it would be even worse tomorrow), he would have trouble being as precise as he needed to pull this off. The extra time would be a great help. So he set up and got started.

El pulled up a chair for him and herself, and took a seat. She wanted to watch him work, yes, but she also just wanted to be near him. She could see he was in pain, and wanted to comfort him. El knew Peter and Moz were right in telling her to act like nothing was going on until Neal came to them, but at least this way she felt like she was still able to keep an eye on him. _Her_ son.

* * *

Neal lost track of time. In some back part of his mind, he registered Peter and El going to bed. He didn't acknowledge it, too consumed by his work. It was like a drug, helping him forget. Erasing the pain and shame for just a moment. Everything felt perfect, like he was painting himself a different reality. He felt _safe_ for the first time in a while.

Neal woke with a start. He was on the couch with a blanket draped over him, and paint smears on his hands. As he heard El and Peter talking at the table, he realized what had woken him up. Breakfast. His stomach grumbled loudly enough to make Neal blush. Peter and El didn't mention that they heard it where they sat, just simply shared an amused smile across the table. Neal had a time getting up with out jostling his seriously sore body. He was surprised he could even sit up. Passing out on the couch was not the best idea, but in the middle of the night, the couch was a lot closer than his room upstairs.

Neal came up and rubbed his eyes, as he got a view of the couple eating. He simply stole Peter's cereal and poured some into a bowl already set out for him. This would seem rather rude to an outsider, but to the Burkes, this was Neal. The first real glimpse of _him_ they had seen in a while. Peter noted the dark circles under his son's eyes.

"Sleep well, Bud?" For the first time that morning, Neal actually looked _at_ them instead of through them. He immediately straightened his posture and became Neal Caffrey, the suave con man, who was _not _relaxing at a Fed's table for breakfast like he belonged there. The only thing genuine was his comfortable smile.

"Yeah. Sorry for just collapsing on your couch though. It was calling to me after about two in the morning." Peter snorted and shook his head. El gave him a mother look.

"Neal, Sweetie, you have to actually get some sleep while you're here."

"Yeah, Neal. Hughes gave you these two days off so you can work during the day, and you have to be awake to get that Caffrey mind to work." Neal playfully brushed off the hand Peter was ruffling his hair with.

"Peter! Yeah, I'll sleep. I just got caught up in the painting is all." In truth, Neal didn't want to fall asleep, afraid he would wake up back at home with Frank. That it would all be a dream. He was glad to see it wasn't though.

They finished breakfast together. Then El and Peter got up to go to work. It was a very odd scenario for Neal, who always went with Peter. He felt like a kid left home from school for being sick. It was an odd analogy, but an amusing one to his sleep addled mind.

"Neal, Honey, could you take Satch for a walk today at some point? He really likes going out to the park with you." Peter shook his head at her and gave her their daily morning kiss.

"Hun, Neal's got work to do today-" Neal waved a hand at Peter.

"Peter, it's fine. I haven't spent time with Satchmo for a while, and it'll only take like thirty minutes. I'd be happy to do it." El grinned smugly at her husband.

"Ha. Thanks Neal. Help yourself to anything in the fridge."

"Don't burn my house down, Kid. I don't want to come back to find cops at my door." Neal finally got them to leave. They were going to be late if they kept telling him the Do's and Don't's as if he hadn't house sat for them before.

"I'll be good. Now go before Hughes gives your office away. I'm sure you wouldn't want to see Clark with his butt in your chair." That image got him going with a disturbed shudder.

"Thanks for that image." And they were finally gone.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed that:) Never forget to review, it helps with writers block:) Sorry the moment was not in this chap, but I assure you it is (I think...) in the next one! So, next time on Past Haunts: A phone call puts in motion events that can go very right or very wrong... will Neal still have a family? Stay tuned... :) Probs a bit over dramatic, but I gots to leave you hangin' somehow;)**

**PS. I love hearing suggestions for directions of stories (like.. IDK what to do with Frank... food for thought). Also I am open to writing stories for people:) Keep in mind I don't do crossovers, slash, or rated M material. Keep it F/M and rated T or below and I'll be happy to give it a go.:)**


	12. Chapter 12

Past Haunts: Chapter 12

**I'm back:)...and can't think of anything fun to say besides 'Yeah! New Chapter Time!'**

**AN: To Molly (guest) I would PM you about this but I can't so here it is. Thank you for your story suggestion, but unfortunately I do not read or watch vampire diaries. I would not want to do the stories or characters any injustice by messing them all up. It does sound like an interesting plot line, though, so I hope you find someone able to progress it for you. I am terribly sorry, but thank you for reading my work and reviewing.**

**Warnings:**** Neal whumpage, and some mentions of past non con. there may be triggers in this story from abuse sections. I apologize for not mentioning this earlier.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**Heart Stuttering Phone Calls, Dead Ends, and Groceries**

It was surprisingly quite, even Satch was quite. Neal had taken him on an extra long walk just to revel in the incoming spring warmth. It was beautiful in the park, and Satch was loving every minute of it. As soon as they got back though, the retriever had slumped onto the rug with a groan, and Neal startled when he saw that he had spent an hour and a half on the walk. He chuckled.

"Sorry, Peter." He settled to get back to work on the Degas. He wasn't able to get as far on it last night like he normally would. The young man sighed.

"Well, I've got to start now if I want to get anywhere with this."

He had been working on it for an hour when is cell rang. Figuring it was Peter calling to check on him, he didn't bother looking at the caller ID.

"Hey, Peter I was just-"

"_Don't _call me that. It sounds like you're getting way too comfortable over there, Matty." Neal dropped his brush and stiffened. That voice had the power to freeze him even at a distance.

"Um-I-uh-" The laugh that came through the phone effectively closed off Neal's air supply.

"Oh, calm down, Matty. I'm just calling to make sure you were being a good boy. You haven't told your little FBI friends about me, have you?" Neal shook his head before remembering Frank couldn't see him.

"N-No." Another terrible laugh.

"Good. I'll call when I need you. Oh, and Neal... this case... I don't want you getting into any trouble preventing you from coming home as soon as you can, got it? I'll be following this _very_ closely." Neal shuddered at the threat, and nearly dropped the phone when he heard the click of the phone on the other end being hung up abruptly. He gently set his phone on the counter nearest him. He couldn't get away from him even here. He could never get away.

* * *

Peter groaned and rubbed his eyes for the millionth time. The clock said only a minute had passed since the last time he had checked. _That can't be right._ But it was, and he knew it. It was so frustrating trying to pretend to be focused on the case, when all he was really doing was staring blindly down at the files in front of him, while his mind was going on overdrive thinking about Neal.

It was unbearable watching him struggle to hide his pain from them. Peter had to fight every protective instinct that flared up when he saw Neal's tight smile at breakfast that morning. All it would do would be to effectively chase him away, which was the last thing any of them wanted.

So, instead of staying home with Neal, watching him every minute, holding him tight and telling him it would all be okay, he was here at work, watching his clock drag his torture out. The techs were having a lot of trouble getting anything on Crowley that they could use for Neal's undercover op, leaving Peter with not much more to do than reread the same file, and look at the same dead ends till the lunch bell in his head went off.

With absolutely no reason to be at work any longer, he told Hughes he would be taking the rest of the day off to keep an eye on Neal. His boss simply nodded in understanding, and it was all Peter could do not to run out the doors, down to his car. Jones and Diana watched him practically flee from his office, as they kept digging.

They knew Peter had made up the flight risk report to keep Neal safe and with him, and they were glad for it. The two junior agents were hoping it would give them enough time to figure something out to arrest 'John Caffrey' over.

'John Caffrey' didn't have a record. On paper, he was a model citizen, and they couldn't run his fingerprints to verify his identity without a warrant, which they knew no judge in their right mind would grant them. So, while all of the other junior agents were focused solely on getting all the dead ends they could on their newest case, Diana and Jones were quietly digging up all _they_ could on Frank Smithson. There had to be something out there that could help their friend. There had to be, and they refused to give up until they found it.

* * *

El was having an equally crappy day. Nothing really registered, only how slowly the clock hands seemed to be moving. She was lucky she didn't have any clients that morning or her business would have gone down considerably due to her lack of response to anything. It was her new assistant that got through to her enough to tell her to go home, that she would handle any business that might come that day. El knew she liked the girl for a reason.

She decided to stop at the grocery store to pick up some extra provisions, things that just happened to be some of Neal's favorites. El couldn't help the fond smile that graced her lips as she pictured Neal's face when she would show him what she had picked up. She shook her head as she glanced again at the Reese's Cups and Lucky Charms in the plastic bags. Neal was so like a boy sometimes, but it was adorable, so she never got on him about it.

She shifted everything to one arm, so she could get the door open. It was quiet save Satchmo stretching to come to her and the faint sound of a paintbrush on a canvas. She rounded the corner, still with a smile on her face. That smile dropped as did the groceries, and she didn't stop the horrified, strangled sound that came out of her at what she saw.

* * *

**Sooooo...Nothing happened on the walk! I could not believe the amount of people scared about the walk, but hey glad I made the story suspensful enough to make people worry at the turn of every corner:) So, next time on Past Haunts...What did El see, and what does Peter come home to? BA BA BUMMMMMM! :)**

**PS. I love hearing suggestions for directions of stories (like.. IDK what to do with Frank... food for thought). Also I am open to writing stories for people:) Keep in mind I don't do crossovers, slash, or rated M material. Keep it F/M and rated T or below and I'll be happy to give it a go.:)**

**P.S.S. I must say here, if I do not watch or read, or in general know the book, show, movie, or characters for a story you might suggest, I will turn it down in a desire to not ruin your fav shows and such. I would not want to do them an injustice by screwing them all up. So, sorry if that effects anyone's plans, but feel free to run anything by me, and I will gladly let you know:)**


	13. Chapter 13

Past Haunts: Chapter 13

**Sorry! I know it's a tiny chapter, but you guys are getting to the end of my rope and I'm really trying to finish up Fragments right now. **

**Well, at least you get to find out what El saw, right? BTW congrats to Curiosity Cat who hit it right on the nose. :)**

**Warnings:**** -_- really guys? you should know the warnings by now...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**Screamo, El first, Then Peter**

After Neal had hung up, and gotten his wits back about him, he set his mind towards the one thing that was purely his and not tainted by Frank, his painting. It soothed him like nothing else, but he could still hear that laugh in the back of his head. To drown it out, he decided to do what he would do if he were back in his own apartment. He took his over shirt off, leaving him in a see through white, under tank. Being without his fancy speakers, he made do with his iPod. He listened to Bach, yes he loved classical music surprise, surprise, but when that didn't work, he turned to his guilty pleasure... screamo.

It had been a long time ago when he listened to it on a regular basis. Now he only brought it out when he didn't want to hear himself think anymore. This was one of those times. Neal cranked the volume, until he was sure he wouldn't be able to hear for a while after he turned the music off. That was fine with him; as long as it helped him focus on the painting.

It helped a great deal. It helped him ignore the ongoing inner dialog in the

in the back of his mind, and sort of smothered the distracting pain in his back. The thought hadn't occurred to Neal that since both Burkes had gone and left him all alone, he could sneak some painkillers. Just the thought of his back brought a small flare of pain still radiating strongly from the black, blue, and scabbed over belt marks. It hurt, but right now the pain just didn't matter to him. He painted right over it like it didn't exist, just how Neal always handled these kind of things. Just paint over it, and it doesn't exist.

So, yes, the music helped him, but it also made him all but deaf to the sound of someone coming in the house. He didn't hear them come up behind him... or the sharp strangled cry they emitted.

Neal finally noticed, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He nearly jumped through the ceiling. The young man quickly yanked out his ear buds, and jumped up despite his body's protest, clutching his at his chest.

"Jeez, Elizabeth. Give a guy some warning next time you-" He trailed off when he saw her face. It was full of pure horror, and something even more terrifying, pure rage.

"Elizabeth?" He had no idea what had put her into her statuesque state. It wasn't until he looked at the groceries on the floor and saw his shirt in a heap near them that it dawned on him. Elizabeth saw- _Oh, no. Please no! She can't see, she can't!_ Neal wanted to bolt, but he felt frozen to the spot.

He never wanted them to find out, but they had. So the next best thing, had been to never let them see. And now El had and-_ Oh Gosh! If Peter-_ He couldn't think straight anymore, could barely move, as he pictured the anger, hurt, betrayal... repulsion, on the agent's face. It was all too much. He didn't even notice when the first tear fell.

Neal heard hesitant footsteps approaching and quickly backed away without looking up from the floor. El broke the silence, and the pain in her voice broke Neal's heart along with it.

"Neal... please-" No! It was too much! He ran, because that's what he always does. Because that was the only way to make it not real. Run away and pretend it's not right behind you. Well, Neal forgot to look right in front of him.

"Neal, I'm hom- OOF! What- Neal?" As Peter was walking through the door, Neal had been trying to run out of it. Peter instinctively locked his arms around the trembling con and held him.

"Neal, what is it? What's wrong?" That was when he heard his wife's shaking breaths, and looked up to see her eyes blazing with anger and pain, and holding Neal's shirt.

"El? You're home? What's wrong? Please. Someone talk to me" Neal's attempts to pull away were weak at best. If Peter were to venture a guess he would say that Neal probably didn't even know he was crying. El still hadn't spoken, and simply followed silently as Peter led Neal to the couch and sat them down. He began to rub comforting circles on Neal's back... but stopped when his hands felt something other than smooth skin, and he heard Neal whimper and flinch.

"Neal, let me see your back." Neal's struggling increased, but Peter now had a firm hold on his wrists. Knowing he would get no cooperation, Peter turned Neal around himself. The young man was like putty in his hands at that point. Peter stared at the marred, quivering back of his son. Pure fury engulfed him.

"I'll kill him."

* * *

**Again, sorry for the tiny chapter! I'm working on 4 stories at once, give me a break! BTW I've started a CM fic, for any Spencer fans out there, i'll post a little sneak peek soon, so please help me out and let me know what you think!**

**As always...review!**

**PS. I love hearing suggestions for directions of stories (like.. IDK what to do with Frank... food for thought). Also I am open to writing stories for people:) Keep in mind I don't do crossovers, slash, or rated M material. Keep it F/M and rated T or below and I'll be happy to give it a go.:)**

**P.S.S. I must say here, if I do not watch or read, or in general know the book, show, movie, or characters for a story you might suggest, I will turn it down in a desire to not ruin your fav shows and such. I would not want to do them an injustice by screwing them all up. So, sorry if that effects anyone's plans, but feel free to run anything by me, and I will gladly let you know:)**


	14. Chapter 14

Past Haunts: Chapter 14

**M'kay, so I'm going to get all serious on you guys. Just a minute let me get my face on... -_-**

**So, abuse is not okay, in any shape or form, on or to anyone! It is a horrible thing that insecure, selfish people use to destroy others. If you are experiencing it or know someone who is, don't hesitate to get help. This is very serious. No one should have to go through it. And just so you know, there is always someone who cares. God included.**

**I have said my piece, please take it seriously, and enjoy. **

**Warnings:**** -_- really guys? you should know the warnings by now...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**Losing Control, More Crying, and Unwanted Help**

Neal couldn't stop shaking. He just completely lost control. It was like he was Matthew Smithson again, flinching at anyone touching him and unable to stop having a crippling fear run through him every time Frank- No! He was Neal Caffrey, not Matt Smithson. That kid didn't exist anymore. He was Neal Caffrey, con extraordinaire , forging prodigy, and cool, suave, and charming out the wazoo. So, why couldn't he stop shaking?

When he felt Peter try to look at his back, he tried to fight. He really did, but it was like the fight had drained out of him. Hearing Peter's threat made him shake all the harder.

Neal failed at the one important thing in his life. Protect his family. If they got involved, they would get hurt, just like his parents. He couldn't let that happen. He tried to pull away again. Peter's arms just tightened, and then he found himself wrapped in another, smaller pair. He clenched his eyes tighter, not even able to bare the image in his mind of Elizabeth _seeing_. Everything hurt so bad but- the arms wrapped around him... Neal felt safe for the first time in a _long_ time.

He surprised himself, when he felt a sob rip through his chest.

"It's okay to hurt, Neal. Let it out. You can't carry this by yourself anymore." That did it. He broke down right there, in the arms of his family. Neal Caffrey didn't want to run anymore, but he didn't know how to stop.

* * *

The sobs stopped after what felt like an eternity to Neal. Once he quieted down, both Peter and Elizabeth pulled back slightly to meet his eyes. They fully expected him to cry again or tell them everything. What they weren't expecting was for Neal to extricate himself from their embrace and walk into the kitchen and sit back down at his painting, all without looking at them. Peter and El shared a confused look.

"Neal?" El called out tentatively. When no answer came except the soft strokes of a brush on canvas, the couple stood and slowly walked towards their son.

"Neal, bud, what is this? Talk to us? We can't help you if you don't-"

"I don't want you to help." Peter raised his eyebrows.

"You don't _want_ us to help. Well, if what I saw just a moment ago was something then-"

"I'm sorry for that, and I'm grateful for what you did, but... I don't want you to help."

"Neal, Sweetie, you don't have to be afraid of him anymore. We can-"

"You don't get it do you!" Neal jumped up so fast he knocked his stool over and sent his pallette to the floor with it.

"I can take it! All of it! I did it for years! It's nothing new! _He's _nothing new! I can take whatever he does to me, but if he... if he finds about that you... or," The Burkes could see how his flame was being quenched as fast as it had been lit.

"Neal, he won't find out until we go to arrest him and-" Neal's eyes widened almost to the point of being ridiculous.

"No! That's what I'm saying! If he even thinks that you know, or that I've told you _anything_ then... he'll... he would..." His eyes filled with tears that spilled over as he dropped his gaze to the floor.

"I can't lose my family again." It was almost too quite to hear, but in the tense silence it was like a bomb went off. El wiped away the tears that had formed in her own eyes and teleported across the kitchen to wrap Neal in her arms once more. This time the young con clung to her like a lifeline. El rubbed her hands soothingly across his back, mindful of his injuries.

"It's alright, Neal. Sweetie, we know you're scared, but you have to trust us. We're your family now, and family takes care of each other. Let us protect you." Neal reluctantly pulled back then to meet her blue, watery gaze. Then he looked away to Peter's determined, restrained eyes. He had to tell them. His sigh was full of resignation and pain.

"You _are _my family. So, I have to tell you the real story." Peter put his hand up and stepped closer to his son.

"It's okay, Neal. Mozzie and Hughes filled us in on everything-" Neal gave a bitter chuckle and shook his head.

"I figured but that's the thing. Hughes probably gave you some more... let's say... correct information, but not all of it. Mozzie only told you what I told him, and-" Neal's eyes glazed over for a moment, before he pulled himself back.

"And I wasn't very honest. There are a lot of holes and... twisted truths left." Peter and El braced themselves as Neal led them back to the couch. Their hurting boy let out a deep breath he had been holding and began.

* * *

**I know! Small chap and cliffie! And I will be gone so I wont be able to update next week! Wait? What?! Oh, yeah. *Hehe* Well, forgot to mention that...Don't kill me!**

** As always...review!**

**PS. I love hearing suggestions for directions of stories (like.. IDK what to do with Frank... food for thought). Also I am open to writing stories for people:) Keep in mind I don't do crossovers, slash, or rated M material. Keep it F/M and rated T or below and I'll be happy to give it a go.:)**

**P.S.S. I must say here, if I do not watch or read, or in general know the book, show, movie, or characters for a story you might suggest, I will turn it down in a desire to not ruin your fav shows and such. I would not want to do them an injustice by screwing them all up. So, sorry if that effects anyone's plans, but feel free to run anything by me, and I will gladly let you know:)**


	15. Chapter 15

Past Haunts: Chapter 15

**Soooo... I'm back! Yipee for you! ;) I promise, to those who were worried, I will never abandone a story that is not finished, unless something severely drastic happens. And if I do have to drop a story, I will try to thoroughly explain myself beforehand. :) Please enjoy. Chaps might be a little short cause I haven't written much in advance.**

**Ok, so what I said in the last chaps A/N still and always stands. Not ok for anyone to go through anything like this...**

**Enjoy:)**

**Warnings:**** -_- really guys? you should know the warnings by now...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**Section header says it all. There may be some trigger stuff in here, so tread carefully. This would be a reason for the T rating. Nothing graphic, but disturbing.**

**_Neal's Actual Past-_**

**Part 1**

The names I gave Mozzie are real, which I'm sure you know, from background checks and such.

(_Peter couldn't help but hang his head a little at that)_

It's okay. I fully expected that. I would have been surprised if you didn't run 'John Caffrey' through as soon as you heard his name. So, Frank Smithson is my uncle. I know I told Mozzie that I never met him until after my parents...

(_Neal paused to calm himself. El squeezed his hand and gave him an encouraging smile)_

...

But that wasn't true. I had met him a couple times before. The first time was when I was five. My dad had invited him over for a weekend; I guess to try and mend whatever little family separation thing they had going on. Anyways, I got to meet Uncle Frank.

_(Neither of the listeners missed the bitterness and spite in those last two words)_ I thought he was really cool at first. He was nice, and... I liked him.

_(Neal's eyes had glazed over at this point, and the Burkes simply let him escape into his head while he recounted his tale. They weren't prepared for what they heard next) _It wasn't until my parents went out for a special night together and left me alone with him that I met the real Frank. He sat next to me on the couch like he always did and put his hand on my head, again like he usually did. But... he started playing with my hair and then kissed the top of my head.

He said, "_You don't now how pretty you are, Matty. Just like your mother_." He stopped playing with my hair, and then asked me if I wanted to play a game. He said it was the 'Quiet Game' and no matter what, I had to stay quiet. (_Neal's fists were clenching against his thighs, and his voice shook a bit as he continued) _

Frank started out as just tickling me like he did when we were with my parents. But then he... touched me and...

Well (_His voice broke a little, along with the Burkes' hearts)_ that's when it started. I didn't know what happened, only that I didn't like it, and I didn't like Uncle Frank anymore. My parents noticed that I got quieter after that and never thought it had anything to do with Frank. (_Neal gave another bitter laugh)_ They even asked _him_ what he thought it could be! He suggested I was being bullied at school or something, and they _believed_ him. (_*Sigh*)_

After that, I just felt like I could never say anything. So, I didn't, even when my parents invited Frank to spend time over a few more times. Each time he visited, he got me alone in the house with him, and he was getting progressively more violent and possessive.

Then... I was turning eight. (_Neal gave a sad laugh and shook his head, knocking a few hanging tears loose)_ I was so happy my parents were getting me out of that house, and my parents were just happy that I seemed to be acting like myself again. We went out to eat and as we were headed back home- (_Neal couldn't stop the emotion from closing his throat. Peter and El enveloped him in a hug and didn't release him until he made to continue.)_

The light ahead turned red and my dad made to hit the breaks, but they wouldn't work. A pick up went through the intersection and collided with the front of our car. Killed them instantly. I later found out Frank had cut the brakes, and seeing as the cops saw it as just another accident, they really didn't look too hard at it. They just... filled out the paperwork and handed me over to the social worker. (_Neal's voice fades out, as does his eyes, as they travel back in time)_

**_End Neal's Actual Past_ _Part 1_**

* * *

**TBC!**

**Tiny, I know! Don't kill me!**

**As always...review!**

**And you guys already know 'bout my offer to do prompts. :)**


	16. Chapter 16

Past Haunts: Chapter 16

**K' this one will be a little bit longer. Please enjoy and let me know what you think. :)**

**Ok, so what I said in the last chaps A/N still and always stands. Not ok for anyone to go through anything like this...**

**Enjoy:)**

**Warnings:**** -_- really guys? you should know the warnings by now...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**No Hospitals!, Not Your Fault, and Ticklish**

El was crying and held Neal as he got quiet, but Peter couldn't stop the agent in him from working. "But, if Frank was trying to get you, why didn't he do that when you weren't in the car? You could have easily been killed." Neal nodded.

"Yeah, I wondered about that all the time. I'm pretty sure he wasn't clear headed when he came up with the idea, just wanted to hurt my family, and I don't think he planned on me surviving. I just happened to be a lucky bonus. In his custody, where he could do whatever he wanted."

"You need to stop, Neal, before you collapse." El couldn't take seeing her baby like this anymore, so broken and lost and in pain- Pain!

"Neal, Honey! Your back! You need to go to the hospital-" Neal's eyes widened almost comically.

"No! No hospitals! Really! It's fine. Doesn't need stitches. No hospitals." El shook her head confused.

"But, dear-" Peter held up a placating hand to her.

"El, Neal hates hospitals with a passion. Trust me. You're going nowhere fast. But, Neal, we need to deal with your injuries." Neal knew he was right, but... he couldn't help the feelings of pain, vulnerability, and shame. He didn't want to show them how weak he was that he couldn't fight Frank off. Neal closed his faded blue eyes and nodded. He heard El sigh in early resignation and the click of her heels as she walked away to get the supplies she needed. Peter stayed next to him.

To be honest, Peter really did _not_ want to see. He didn't think he would be able to control himself if he did; he would want to run off and beat Frank's skull in, but... That would be selfish of him. Neal was more important right now, and right now, his son needed him to be there for him and help him. Peter placed a gentle hand at the back of Neal's neck. It hurt him, when he felt Neal tense under his hand.

"Neal," He kept his voice soft and comforting, not demanding or controlling in any way. "I need to look at you. Can you please take your shirt off?" Peter could see most of the marks through the white under tank, but it still prevented him from actually knowing the full extent of it and treating him. Neal's blue eyes held resignation, and a fear that made Peter want to beat Frank Smithson almost to death with his bare hands, then throw him in prison and tell the other inmates he was a child molester. The worst part of that thought was... he wouldn't be lying.

Neal's hands quivered slightly as they reached for the hem of his shirt. He couldn't help but grimace when he stretched his back muscles to pull it off. What made all of it worse was El came back just then and had to help him get it off. Neal wouldn't meet their eyes, expecting to see disgust or anger towards him. He knew it was irrational, but at the moment it was what his brain was telling him, in Frank's voice. Neal closed his eyes when he felt El still besides him, and he started to tremble when he heard Peter's breathing become ragged and shallow with anger. He jumped slightly when an unseen hand came up to lift his chin. Peter's hand was holding him in place and forcing Neal to meet his eyes.

"Neal," Peter had to take a deep breath to keep his anger from seeping into his voice. It would only scare his son. "This... is not your fault. It's that bast- that man's fault. This won't make us leave. I promise, son." That one word made Neal want to start crying again, but he felt all dried up and unable to shed a single tear.

"Honey? I'm going to touch your back, okay?" The con man only nodded and kept facing Peter. His throat was closed off with emotions. He vaguely felt El's gentle hands running over his skin. He couldn't suppress a shudder. Her hands stopped instantly.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" Neal, not sure if it was due to the lightheadedness coming from the recent emotional upheaval or just a reaction from Peter's declaration, smiled a real genuine smile, bringing an even wider one to Peter's face.

"No... it- it just tickled." El's eyebrows shot up, and she met Peter's twinkling eyes over Neal.

"That was probably not wise of you to admit, Neal," Peter warned. As he said it, El filed the information away for later.

Neal's back was littered with dark purple bruises and cuts, verging on gashes, from where the buckle dug in. It was not pretty, sure to leave some scars. El let her eyes trace over the long faded scars on Neal's skin that would be joined by the new ones. Someone hurt her baby. She knew who that someone was. That someone was going to pay.

* * *

**Sooooo, a little bit longer, and not _as_ angsty as the last chap, but still. School starts back up for me next week, so posts will probably be less...on schedule shall we say. I will not abandon the story, I promise you that. :)**

**This chap reminds me a little of Good Will Hunting, and if you have not seen it, I highly recommend it! It is a wonderful and heart wrenching story. :)**

**As always...review!**

**And you guys already know 'bout my offer to do prompts. :)**


	17. Chapter 17

Past Haunts: Chapter 17

**I too think that El would be more dangerous to deal with than Peter right now:) Imagine her going all mother bear on him :) Mmmmm, happy thoughts:)**

**Ok, so what I said in the last chaps A/N still and always stands. Not ok for anyone to go through anything like this...**

**Enjoy:)**

**Warnings:**** -_- really guys? you should know the warnings by now...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**Tailing, Plans, Phone Calls**

Mozzie was currently following a certain scumbag around New York city. As soon as he had left the Burke's home he went to Thursday, his favorite, to come up with a plan. He couldn't simply sit here, and if he knew Frank, he knew the disgusting excuse for a human being was planning something. So the next day, Mozzie went all out spy and tailed for all he was worth. Frank at first just seemed to be wandering, as though he knew he was being followed, or expected to be at least.

The man went around to, seemingly, sight see, but he finally came to his destination. Mozzie full on hit the brakes, nearly bumping into the people walking right behind him. Frank had stopped outside of the Bureau! And as a seasoned, (not old, well seasoned), con, Moz could tell when someone was casing a target. What he didn't see, however, was the slimey smile that crawled its way across Frank Smithson's face. _Soon. He'll pay. Soon._

* * *

To say that Neal was dumbfounded was an understatement. His day went from horrible to overwhelmingly incredible all in a matter of hours. Once he had extracted himself from the Burkes, he had to convince them that he really needed too get back to work on the Degas. Unsurprisingly, El and Peter stayed really close to him the entire time, and I mean _really_ close. El was back in the stool she was sitting on the other night, but this time it was considerably closer. Peter was 'relaxing' in his least favorite arm chair watching the game, but they all knew he was watching Neal. The con appreciated the gesture, but it was making him a bit uncomfortable.

"Um... Peter, El, you know I'm okay, right? You can do what you want; you don't have to watch over me like a hawk." He said all of this without turning around, and yet he could see them flush slightly and release some of the tension in their shoulders. El came up behind him and rubbed his shoulders lightly.

"Well, Sweetie, I guess you're right. I'll be upstairs napping, but don't be afraid to wake me if you need anything." He turned and flashed her a genuine smile.

"Thanks again, El. For everything." She couldn't resist, and soon Neal was wrapped up in her strong arms. This time though he was chuckling instead of having an emotional breakdown.

"El, let the kid breathe! He still has work to do!" Neal held in a full out laugh, when he heard Elizabeth snort at her husband.

"I don't see you doing anything important, Mr. FBI Agent." Peter had no response but to imitate a fish. "That's what I thought. Don't let him bully you, Neal. You come get me, if he does." Neal glanced back at Peter's aquatic life impression and bit his cheek to keep from laughing again.

"Will, do Mrs. Burke."

When Elizabeth reached their bedroom and shut the door, Peter walked up to stand behind Neal. The forger had dome a significant amount of work and was nearing the finishing touches before the aging process. (_A/N: had to make him super speedy painter so he could be done in the time frame I set; besides he get forgeries done in one night on the show, this can't be that unrealistic in that regard_) Peter would never admit it, but Neal was a brilliant artist, and his work blew him away. He would never claim the title of art connoisseur, but he could certainly appreciate good work when he saw it. The agent sighed and checked his watch.

"Neal, I have to make some phone calls, but I'm gonna be right upstairs, alright?" Neal completely turned to face Peter and pointed at him with his paint brush.

"Peter, I am fine. You can leave me alone for a few minutes, and I can assure you I won't have another mental breakdown. Do what you have to do, or need I remind you I am not a five year old?" Peter raised his hands in surrender and backed off to call the office and check on their progress. As he left, Neal let himself escape for a while into his own work.

_Peter spends way too much of his time on his phone._ Neal shook his head as he saw the clock said forty-five minutes had passed. _They must have had some sort of complication. Either that or they found something really, really interesting._ A vibration against his thigh jolted Neal from his wandering minds musings. He had been about to plug in El's hair dryer ( _A/N: Let's get something straight. I don't know how to forge paintings. Well! Now that that's out of the way...Enjoy_) , so he quickly set it down and grabbed his phone, before he missed the call. He really hoped it wasn't Alex calling about a botched job; she was the last thing Neal needed right then.

"Hello?" There was silence on the other end, almost to the point where Neal was going to hang up. Then it felt like a bucket of ice water was dumped on him.

"_Matty,_ you didn't pick up last time I called. I thought I was going to have to come over there and _check_ on you and your little FBI pet." He couldn't breathe. How the hell could he have forgotten about the horrible man on the other end of the line? Oh right, probably because of the emotional upheaval of feeling what it's like to have a family again after years of Frank Smithson's fists. Neal snapped out of it when he heard a growl come from the other man.

"Answer the question, _Matty!_" Wait, what? Neal shook his head; he had to focus to have a conversation with his enraged uncle. Just hearing his voice brought his stuttering back up.

"I-I'm sorry... what qu-question?" His voice quivered slightly, then he began to tremble when another growl crawled over the wires toward him.

"I asked, you retard, what you had been doing over at the FBI's house. Obviously, you've been having too much fun, if you're forgetting to answer your phone. Do I have to come over there and straighten things out for you?" Neal clenched his eyes shut at the images that assaulted him. He would be a bloodied pulp on Elizabeth's kitchen floor. He vaguely heard the sound of approaching feet, but at the moment couldn't place it.

"N-no, Sir. You d-don't. I've be-en working on the c-case. With P-Peter, Sir." There was a incredulous huff.

"Yeah. I'm sure that's what you've been doing. You don't really think he keeps your pretty face around, because he thinks you're smart, or he likes you, do you?" Neal was starting to feel nauseous. What Frank was implying... "Now, shut up, and actually listen, Matty. You will finish up this case as fast as you can, then get your lazy butt back over here. You have a lot to catch up on." _Click._ Just like that. Just like that, and he was back in hell. He held his head in his shaking hands and tried to breathe. When he did open his sapphire eyes again, it was to find Peter staring at him, looking livid.

* * *

**As always...review!**

**And you guys already know 'bout my offer to do prompts. :)**


	18. Chapter 18

Past Haunts: Chapter 18

**Early post, YIPEE! Here 'tis, a new chapter for all of ye wonderful folk that have graced me story with your readin' eyes. :) Luv you all! :)**

**Ok, so what I said in the last chaps A/N still and always stands. Not ok for anyone to go through anything like this...**

**Enjoy:)**

**Warnings:**** -_- really guys? you should know the warnings by now...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**New Info, Rage, and a Freak Out for Good Measure**

Neal needed space not smothering. Peter knew this, so he tried to find something to do. He decided he should maybe call Jones for an update. Then when he and Neal were done, maybe they could get El and they could finish that talk with Neal. It's a long road ahead, a very large minefield, but as Peter always says, "It's time to cowboy up." So, Peter grabbed his phone to distract himself and give Neal his space. The phone rang a little longer than he thought it would.

"Jones." The junior agent sounded exhausted, and Peter couldn't blame him. He wasn't blind to how much extra work he and Diana were doing all for Neal's sake, and for all of theirs to be honest.

"It's Peter. Has any progress been made on the Crowley case, or our little side search?" He could practically hear Jones shake and hang his head.

"The techs found nothing on Crowley, but have a way for Neal to get in to the auction as a fellow buyer. Beyond that little bundle of joy, nothing. There is nothing on John Caffrey or Frank Smithson, besides what Hughes gave us. It's like after his little slip up, he completely went off the map. He's not even-" Jones just stopped like he was interrupted by someone. There was the vague sounds of excited exclamations and the changing hands of the phone. Suddenly,

"Peter!" Said person, quickly yanked the phone away from his pounding ear drum then gingerly replaced it, bracing himself for another deafening proclamation.

"Diana? If that's you please talk in a softer not as earth shattering volume." There it goes again, hearing his junior agent rolling her eyes impatiently over the phone line. El's right when she says he spends too much time at the office.

"Peter! Listen up; you're gonna wanna hear this." She sounded like she was vibrating, about to burst if she didn't say what she had to right then.

"Well, then tell me before you explode."

"Okay, when we run the name Frank Smithson, nothing but those old files come up, right? So, I decided to try something else. I was running his name through more local level channels, when I got a call from Philadelphia PD wondering why I was running said name." Peter sat up straighter in his chair.

"Philadelphia? You mean where-"

"Exactly! Apparently, a detective from Philly was working on a case against the crime family there a number of years ago. There were many suspicious characters that he was looking at. One of them being a small time con artist and forger, Frank Smithson. He worked for Obadiah Crowley." He was frozen. Frank comes to town, supposedly because he found Neal. Then not long after, the head of the Philadelphia crime family that he used to run for shows up. No such thing as coincidences. A thought hit Peter, and he didn't like it.

"Let me guess, Frank stole something from Crowley and then ran off with it." He rubbed his only slightly roughened hand down his face, keeping a firm grip on his cell with the other.

"That's what the Philly detective thought. And whatever it was, it set off a crime family related massacre, essentially. For a while, it looked like Crowley was looking for who stole from him, then the killings stopped. He must have figured it out, so Detective... Phelps was looking for Frank in hopes of making a deal with him." Peter cut in.

"If Frank gave them what they needed to arrest Crowley, they would protect him. But Frank isn't the type to get involved with the police, so he disappeared to escape arrest and a certain Philadelphia crime family." Peter trailed off, lost in thought. The junior agents on the other end of the line could tell Peter was really close to piecing it all together.

"If he was trying to disappear, why would he come here. For Neal? That doesn't make sense. Unless there was something here, in New York that he needed, and..." _Oh, no._ "And he needs Neal to get it for him. So that's why he's here and why he's back to tormenting Neal, but..." _Ugh!_ The thought left him holding onto an unfinished stream of consciousness. The answer was right there, he just couldn't see it. "But what the hell would he need so desperately to risk his being found?"

"I don't know, Boss. We'll keep looking." Peter sighed again.

"Alright. Let me know if you find anything more."

"Will do." Peter hung up then hung his head. They were finally getting somewhere, but the map was in Japanese. It was frustrating as hell, and there wasn't anything Peter could do about it. Peter got up and went back down the stairs. That's when he heard Neal stuttering. _Frank _called him?! Neal didn't see Peter as he approached, _almost _enraged, but for Neal's sake... he remained _almost._

His attempt to not scare Neal didn't work, 'cause as soon as his son met his eyes he shrunk back and started babbling.

"P-Peter! I, my phone rang, and I- he. I didn't mean to... well I just sat there m-mostly. He d-did most of the talking. And there's s-s-something I have to tell you. I forgot. I swear. I was-sn't trying to keep it from you. I just... with everything and I... it slipped my mind. F-Frank wants me to d-do something for him, and I... I don't want to, Peter! I s-swear! He wants me to do-o a job for him and it's in the Bureau. B-but that's all I know; I promise. I w-would tell you more but I don't know anything else. I _swear_, Peter. I am s-so sorry. I-" Peter finally shook himself out of his shock and placed a calming hand on Neal's shoulder, losing the anger in his eyes completely, and fixing Neal with a kind gaze.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Neal, Buddy, calm down. I'm not mad at you. I was upset, because _Frank_ called you, and made you upset. That's all. Now, you said you had something to tell me and I couldn't quite make out what it was you said. So, just take some deep breaths, and when you're ready, then you can tell me, okay." Neal nodded and did what he was told. Peter stayed with him as he calmed his heart and slowed his breathing. Neal was mentally berating himself at the same time. _Stupid. Stupid. Having a freaking panic attack because of a phone call and a look? What are you twelve? Pathetic._ He opened his eyes and nodded at Peter.

"Sorry. I-yeah. Peter, Frank came here to have me do a job for him. I don't know much besides the fact that it is at the Bureau. He told me more but it was after...after he hit me in the head pretty good. So, I wasn't really paying close attention. I'm sorry. I know I should have told you this sooner, but I-"

"Neal. It's okay. Thank you for telling me. Now we can work together on this. You're not alone in this anymore, right?" Neal met his eyes and felt warm hope flood through him. He nodded. Peter smiled and patted his shoulder.

"Well, you've got a painting to finish and I've got some stuff to catch up on. Looks like the techs found a way to get you into the auction. You still okay with doing this? 'Cause I can pull you-" Neal shook his head vigorously.

"No, it's okay, Peter. I can do this." More like Neal needed to do this. A con. That's what he needed right now. Something to keep everything else at bay while he tried to muddle through it all. Everything seemed jumbled up right now, but slipping into a role was the only thing that really made sense to him then. Peter looked at him skeptically before nodding slowly.

"Alright. But if at any moment you can't do it-"

"I'll let you know immediately and pull back." Peter nodded again, then walked out to make some more phone calls, leaving Neal to finish the forgery. Maybe Mozzie would know something.

* * *

**This was a lot, and I warn you that you are reaching the end of my rope here...**

**Anywho, a nice little Neal freak out there for you, hope you enjoyed it.****:)**

**The plot line is changing on me as I write, which is kinda cool, but wierd at the same time. The characters are taking over the story! So, more action should be coming up soon, hopefully. :) Please let me know what you think! :)**


	19. Chapter 19

Past Haunts: Chapter 19

**Early post, Again?! There must be something in the air! Luv all of you for your wonderful support. :) I am working on another white collar fic (significantly shorter than this one though) and a one-shot prompt from one of you reviewers. ;) Once I finish those, I'll post them. For now, I humbly offer up chapter 19 of Past Haunts.**

**And sorry for annoying any of you with my story interrupting A/Ns. I'll refrain from that in the future!**

**Ok, so what I said in the last chaps A/N still and always stands. Not ok for anyone to go through anything like this...**

**Enjoy:)**

**Warnings:**** -_- really guys? you should know the warnings by now...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**Busy, Dinner Time, and *Gasp*!**

Mozzie in fact was busy looking stuff up already when Peter called. He was typing away furiously, writing cryptic letters, and even, God forgive him, using his phone to call, all of his contacts to find anything he could. (He even went as far as slipping back into the Dentist of Detroit; it does come in handy from time to time.)

His phone rang, and he quickly picked it up, assuming it was one of his informants.

"Roger, tell me you found something." There was a pause then,

"Mozzie, this is Peter. I need to ask you some-" Mozzie rolled his eyes and had a sudden urge to throw the phone across the room.

"Suit! I have no time for your harassment and abuse of power! I'm waiting for information from _multiple_ sources, so kindly get advice from somebody else!" He promptly hung up and went back to checking email and pigeon post, waiting for any response. He needed to find out what was in the Bureau that was so important to Frank. Then he would destroy him.

* * *

Peter was staring at his phone incredulously. Then he shook his head sighing. Well, it seems that Mozzie was already on the hunt so it was probably for the best that Peter didn't interrupt him. He would call Peter if he found anything...hopefully. Peter actually shivered at the thought of a rogue Mozzie out for blood. Yeah... not good. When he broke from his thoughts, he realized just how tired he was. To say it was a trying day would be an understatement. Maybe he should go check on Elizabeth.

Before he knew it, Peter was passed out in his wife's arms, his dreams of seriously harming a certain 'man' bringing him an almost uncomfortable amount of contentment. He woke to the sound of knocking on his door, El stirring around him.

"Peter, you go see who's at the door," she mumbled into his chest. He groaned but then when he saw the clock on his night stand, he bolted upright. They had slept for four hours! Well, Peter did. El had slept for a bit more than five. Work was going to suck tomorrow when they couldn't get any sleep that night. More knocking. Tentative and unsure. _Who-? Oh! Neal!_

Peter quickly opened the door to their bedroom and found Neal standing outside of it rather awkwardly.

"Um, hey Peter. Uh, I finished the painting and, um... dinner's ready." The agent's eyes almost bugged out of his head. Neal made dinner? Neal was shuffling from foot to foot under his gaze, so Peter smiled and told him he didn't have to do that. Neal vehemently shook his head at that.

"No, no, no! You guys have done so much for me, and both of you are really tired (rightfully so), and I can't leave to pick up take out, so...That left cooking. Um, come down when you're ready. Everything's set up." There was a sudden intake of air, as one who is suddenly waking up.

"Peter, Honey? Who is it? Is Neal okay?" Peter chuckled at both his wife's questions and Neal for looking sheepish.

"Yes, El, Neal's fine. In fact, he made us dinner and it's ready. So, we'll be downstairs while you do whatever it is you need to..." Awkward silence. "Right, so, we'll be downstairs." Peter closed the door, and Neal laughed quietly at him.

It didn't take long for Elizabeth to join them; the boys were gathered by the 'Degas', Neal attempting to explain to Peter, well, everything. El took a moment to admire the content scene before her before entering.

"It's no use, Neal. I've tried for years to get him to understand, but it hasn't worked yet." Peter rolled his eyes as Neal chuckled.

"Trust me, Hon. Neal's been trying too, every time we have a case that involves any kind art. I know all I need to know." El smiled then paused. She smelled something amazing!

"Neal, Honey, what is that delicious smell?" Neal smiled at the floor, and Peter swore he could make out a subtle blush tinting his cheeks.

"It's just some broccoli and Parmesan risotto. My, uh, my mom taught me how to make it when I was little. Simple really, and you didn't have much else, so... yeah. Risotto it was!" Neal felt surprisingly awkward, but that disappeared when El wrapped him in her arms.

"You didn't have to, Neal, but thank you." She pulled back and smiled brightly at him. "Now, lets eat. I'm starved." The boys gathered up bowls and things while El grabbed the risotto. When they all had a hearty serving on their plates, they dug in. It was divine!

"Wow, Bud, this is great. Glad you made so much, cause I might just eat it all." Neal grinned at the praise, even if he merely poked his dinner.

"Well, I figured you would be hungry considering, well, everything. This was the only way I could think of to say thanks for putting up with all of that-"

"Neal, Hon, you should know by now, we love you like a son. We would happily do that all over again. Now, I have a question for you..." Neal furrowed his brow, suspicious.

"Yeah? I can give you the recipe if that's what-"

"Ponyboy?" Neal blanched for a moment before he took a deep breath and slipped on his Caffrey suit. His smile was bright but chipped at the edges.

"Yeah. I love the book The Outsiders. My art teacher gave it to me, since I think he knew something was going on at home, and thought it could give me a nice distraction. I had it memorized in a week. Then when... things got really bad, and I needed something for people to call me, that was the first thing that came to mind." El regretted asking the question when she saw Neal's initial reaction, but was still happy to hear about his past some. She felt she needed to hear it all. He was her baby, and all she wanted was to live his pain for him, so he could let it go. El reached out her hand to cover Neal's and smiled at him.

"Well, I applaud your choice in literature. I have a copy around here somewhere if you ever want to read it again." Neal lit up at that.

"Thank you, El. I think I'll take you up on that." And their family dinner went on, the conversation steered clear of the past. When they were cleaning up the dishes, Neal asked Peter when he would be going back to work. Peter contemplated this as he blew soap bubbles off of his fingertips.

"Well, today was technically your last day of 'sanctioned leave', but there is really nothing you need to be there for tomorrow. I'm sure Hughes would be fine with it, especially since you finished the painting, and I can keep you up to speed, if we even get anything useful." Neal nodded, and El smiled.

"Oh good! I was planning on staying home tomorrow anyway. Neal and I can hang out while you go get things ready to catch the bad guy!" Peter pictured the two of them alone in the house, and he shivered.

"I'm not sure I can trust you two troublemakers to be by yourselves here while I'm gone." He got twin stares of indignation, so he gave them his best 'That won't work on me' look. They held that moment for ten seconds... then they all burst out laughing.

"Oh *gasp* Peter! *gasp* We'll be *gasp* fine!" El was turning red like a tomato at this point from not being able to catch her breathe. Neal didn't even bother trying to speak, knowing it would be pointless. Peter caught his breathe before she did.

"I know, Hon. I'm just giving you both a hard time. I trust you. Neal on the other hand..."

"Hey!" Peter got a towel to the back of the head. That brought on another giggle fit from El, but she was able to compose herself more quickly this time.

"Oh, come on you two. Let's join Satch in the living room and have a movie night. What should we watch?" There was a chorus of, "The Sting!" And the rest of the night was filled with cons and well deserved sleep, not a worry to be found.

* * *

**Oooo! Mozzie bein' a sass! But understandebly so. Hope you enjoyed a little fluffy lightness. :) Please review!**


	20. Chapter 20

Past Haunts: Chapter 20

**Soooo, yeah. This is on its downward slope (heading to the end). The action will hopefully peak soon, before such an end, but it doth approach. Thanks for all who have favorited and liked and all the jazz. :)**

**Enjoy:)**

**Warnings:**** -_- really guys? you should know the warnings by now...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**Police Scanners, Evidence, and Plot Reveal**

Mozzie was sitting at his kitchen table, an almost empty bottle of wine in his hand, despite the early morning hour. One of his most trusted informants had gotten back to him not long after Peter's call and filled him in on more than he ever wanted to know, not only about Frank, but Neal, or Matthew in this case. He had his suspicions that Neal had lied to him, so he couldn't really say he was surprised. But he also understood why Neal had lied to him. Neal had given him a much nicer version of his past, considering what Mozz had just recently learned.  
That didn't matter now though, Mozzie thought as he clutched the wine bottle tighter. He knew what Frank was after, and he had to stop him before-the static of his police radio went off.  
"10-23 there has been a break in at the Evidence Depository of the Federal Bureau. No suspect in custody, items taken, unknown. Send a bus, we have officers down. We need units available to search-" Mozzie dropped the bottle with a echo of finality on the concrete floor. He was too late. He called the suit.

* * *

Peter was roused, not by his alarm clock, but by his phone, not an unusual occurrence but annoying all the same. He sighs but gingerly moves to grab it before the sound wakes El up. Getting a hand on it, he flips it open.  
"Burke."  
"Suit. Frank got what he came here for. I didn't think he would go for it this soon but," A beeping sound overshadowed Mozzie's next words.  
"Sorry, Mozz. Another call. Just a moment." He wanted to get rid of whoever was calling him, so he could here what Mozzie had to say. Whatever it was, he knew it was important.  
"Burke."  
"Peter Someone broke into the Evidence Depository. Knocked out the night guard. No one knew anything had happened until this morning. So far, we don't know if anything has been taken, but the boss for down here just showed up. We should find out soon." Peter was fully awake. His mind pieced together bits of his conversations with Neal and Mozzie to fill in the blanks. Frank had taken something from the Evidence Depository. But what?  
"Hold on, Diana. I have to put you on hold."  
"But, Peter-" All she got was a beep.  
"Haversham, what did Frank take?" Mozzie heard the distressed tone in the suit's voice and figured he was just informed of the break in.  
"My informants told me he was looking for a box, confiscated by the Feds in a raid a while ago. Supposedly, it held the access codes to the Philadelphia crime family's secret accounts. The Feds couldn't get it open. They didn't have a key and trying to force their way in would undoubtedly destroy the contents. With no way to take the family down, the Feds left the box to gather dust on the shelves of their treasure room. Frank apparently came into possession of it right before he ran, but when the local police came down the first time on the family, he left it there for them to take." Everything made sense in Peter's mind then.  
Frank couldn't get the box open, and when the police force in Philly raided on of their 'legitimate businesses', he turned tail and ran. The police took the box as evidence, and when the case turned federal, it changed hands and ended up in their depository. Frank was on the run, because as far as Crowley knows, Frank was the last one to have the box. But Frank didn't have it so he had to get it back to get the family off of his back. He was going to double cross them though and give them an empty box, but he needed someone to open it for him. When he shows up in New York, who does he find but Neal. Someone with enough skill, no doubt, to get it open, and someone he could easily manipulate.  
"I swear I am switching to round edge-ed containers after this," Peter muttered.  
"You and me both. I've had enough boxes ruin my life." Mozzie sounded on the verge on maybe drunk and brilliantly covered hammered. At the moment, though that didn't matter to Peter.  
"I'll inform my agents, then have a unit posted at my house in case Frank decides to drop by. Wait, how do you know he got it?"  
"Because the guards would be dead if he didn't. Frank has a really bad temper when he doesn't get what he wants." That made Peter's stomach churn, as it invoked imagined images of Neal's past that he never wanted to see.  
"Alright. Thanks for calling me and not doing anything stupid." He didn't even wait for a reply as he hung up on Mozzie and switched back over to the impatient Diana.  
"Diana, I have just been informed that a box containing codes to the Philadelphia crime family's secret accounts was taken. Frank needs Neal to open it. Get a unit posted outside my house. I'll be there in.." Peter glanced at the clock on his night stand. "Thirty minutes." Then Peter felt El stir beside him, and he knew he would have a lot of explaining to do. He sighed into the phone. "Make that an hour. And I'm leaving Neal with El. I don't want him near any crime scenes right now. The last thing he needs is to be interrogated by any beat cops or bureaucratic jerks looking for someone to pin this on." He knew without seeing that Diana had nodded, so he hung up.  
"El?" His wife was up immediately, recognizing the hidden worry in her husband's voice.  
"What is it? What's wrong?" Peter placed a hand on her cheek and kissed her forehead as he sat up on the edge of the bed.  
"Frank broke into the Evidence Depository at the Bureau. I need to go, but I'm having Neal stay with you and Diana post a unit outside of the house." El was seething on the inside, he knew, but she took the information in stride and kept a straight, strong face.  
"Alright. You go. I'll talk to Neal later." Peter nodded and as he got dressed, El got up too, unable to go back to sleep. Peter heard El in the kitchen making coffee and went down to kiss her goodbye before leaving. On his way down the stairs though, he heard something. A noise from Neal's room.  
He quietly turned around, and when he got to the guest room door, he pushed it open a crack. Peter was in the room in a heartbeat.

* * *

**Okay, short, but not so fluffy this time. Tell me what you think! Free hugs if you can guess what's gonna happen;)**


	21. Chapter 21

Past Haunts: Chapter 21

**Sorry to all those expecting Frank. Read on and you'll understand. :)**

**Enjoy:)**

**Warnings:**** -_- really guys? you should know the warnings by now...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**Not Frank, Work, and Marked Cars**

Neal was out like a light, and no one would blame him for it. He was exhausted; they all were. So the pillow and comfy mattress knocked him out as soon as he laid down. His rest was as peaceful as they come, that is, until about five in the morning. The nightmare had started out like most, Kate, the music box, Frank and his belt, Adler with a gun, heat and pain.  
The flames from the exploding plane though soon morphed into hands and faces. Peter and El were in the fire screaming in agony, and when they saw him, their cries turned to rage.  
"How could you We trusted you, Neal Look what you did to us " They reached out to drag him into the flames with him. He was petrified, but when they laid hands on him, he fought for his life. He kicked and screamed and did all he could, all with devastating tears running down his face. Then, above the flames and his own screams, he heard a stomach-churning laughter coming from everywhere. He recognized it immediately, and looked around for his uncle, but he was nowhere to be seen, but everywhere to be heard. Neal couldn't block him out, couldn't get away from the pain. He screamed as loud as he could-  
Then he woke up, once again surrounded by arms causing him to enact his fight response. The arms tightened, and it took the slow circles on his back and the calming reassurances in his ear to make him realize he wasn't in a nightmare anymore. It was... Peter. Oh, good Peter. He was safe. Everything was okay.  
"You're okay, Bud. You're safe here. It's okay. You're fine. Just breathe." After taking a moment to catch his breath, he felt blood rush to his cheeks in embarrassment. He was being treated like a six year old that had a nightmare about the boogeyman. And he was Neal Caffrey. And a full grown man. And that was unacceptable. Neal cleared his throat and pulled back. Well, tried to pull back. Peter held him in place as much as he could.  
"Neal, I need this as much as you. Cowboy up and accept the fact that I am hugging you." Neal inwardly rolled his eyes and replaced his arms around his FBI agent/dad-like older friend? Why put a label on it. They are family, and that's all that matters. It seemed like forever before Peter let him go, and when he finally did, Neal couldn't help but be upset at the loss of warmth. Peter couldn't tell in the dark, but he was sure his son's cheeks were bright red, and to be honest that didn't matter.  
"Neal, I know that was just a dream, but are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?" The con shook his head and then gave Peter a small smile in reconciliation.  
"Sorry. Haven't had such a bad nightmare in years. Hope I didn't...wake... you?" Neal finally noticed that Peter was fully dressed for work. Thinking he was late, he made to jump from his spot on the bed to get ready. Peter laid a hand on his chest and pushed him back down.  
"No, Neal. There was a situation at the Bureau, and they've called me in. You're staying here." Neal flashed Peter an incredulous look.  
"You're kidding, right? What could have happened that they want you but not me there?" A thought struck him. "You're not in trouble are you?" Neal had been worried that Hughes would be upset with Peter being away from work so much with such a big case hanging over their heads.  
"No, I'm not, but... Neal, Frank stole something from the Evidence Depository. It was something tied to Obadiah Crowley, and there's a lot of people upset over this. They're gonna be looking for someone to go after-"  
"And if you show up with a con who happens to be related to the guy who did this, they'll come right to me." Peter nodded, and Neal dropped his head into his hands. Not for the first time, he wished he had a normal life. Well, relatively normal. Well, everything the same minus some perv sociopathic uncle. That is one thing he could always live without.

* * *

Peter left not too long after their 'moment in the bedroom' as El liked to call it. It made her giggle, while it just made Neal grumble. So here he was, stuck at the Burke's house, playing with the dog on the floor. Well, Neal thought, At least one of us is happy. And Satch was. Very happy. Elizabeth was in the kitchen making breakfast, and Neal was on the floor getting slobbered on and covered in short gold hair. Neal had to watch sometimes for a wild tail; he knew from experience the bruises that thing could make. He stared intently at Satch's smiling face, then sighed.  
"Satch, you are never not happy are you?" The lab seemed to smile more then gave a short bark in reply. Neal couldn't help but chuckle. "I'll take that as a no."  
"Neal, dear, breakfast is ready." Neal patted the dog on the head and glanced out the front window as he walked to the table. The marked car had arrived not ten minutes after Peter had left, and Neal, having the history with law enforcement that he does, was having a hard time not being tense about seeing it there. He felt like an escape route was blocked, which in a way it was.  
Once the meal was finished and the dishes put away, El suggested they do something to distract themselves. Neal just shrugged.  
"Um, sure. What do you want to do?" He would have loved to take Satchmo for a walk in the park, but he knew then he would have to be followed around by a squad car which would do nothing for his nerves. El seemed to give the question serious thought. Seeing her like that gave Neal an idea.  
"What would you say to posing for a drawing?" Neal was already sketching her out on his mind canvas, when she brightened.  
"I think that's a lovely idea " And so that's what they did. Neal had El sit in her arm chair and read. He settled on the couch opposite her and set to work. It wasn't long before the drawing was complete.  
"Oh, Neal, it's lovely Can you do another?" Neal hadn't heard such enthusiasm in his work since Frank realized he could exploit it. It made him smile and readily agree. A couple hours later, Neal's sketch pad was filled with sketches of Mrs. Burke... and Satch, cause he had to admit, the dog was a ham and if he was going to go out of his way to pose for him, well, Neal wasn't going to object. El was beaming as she set out plates for lunch. Neal was in the kitchen preparing the meal... when the back door burst open.

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**Okay! Cliffie! There is a bit left, maybe 3-5 chaps worth. I'll write as fast as I can, so please bear with me :) Luv all of you kind readers!:)**


	22. Chapter 22

Past Haunts: Chapter 22

**Did you guess correctly? Read on and see!:)**

**Enjoy:)**

**Warnings:**** -_- really guys? you should know the warnings by now...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh***

**Run!, Dark, and Jamming**

It all happened so fast, Neal had almost no time to react. His first instinct though was to get between Elizabeth and the men that had just broken into the house. Satchmo was growling and barking, but the four men in ski masks ignored the dog since it didn't charge them. One of the men, large and burly, cased the place in a mere second, and nodded his head at Neal.

The other three reached out for the con as he was pushing El out of the kitchen and towards the front door. He pushed a side table in the path of the men, but it was like a gnat to them. An iron grip wrapped around Neal's upper arm and yanked him away from El.

"Neal! " El stopped and looked back for him.

"Elizabeth, RUN! " Another man held on to Neal to keep him form breaking free of the other, while the third walked around them to get to Elizabeth. "Don't you touch her! " Neal raged and screamed and kicked. Heck, he even tried to bite the men, but nothing moved them. He watched in horror as the man in front of him managed to grab El before she got the door open.

She swung, her fist connecting briefly with his jaw, before he wrestled her still and pressed a white cloth to her face. In a matter of seconds, she was out. Neal couldn't breathe. In his panicked state all he could think was that she was dead. His sapphire blue eyes, fixed on her unconscious form, didn't see the cloth coming down over his own mouth and nose. The world faded to black.

"Leave the woman here. The boss said no extras." The man holding El turned to the burly guy and whined.

"But I like 'em feisty. Besides, it would be great to hear her scream while we break him." The burly man growled and motioned for the others to take their 'objective' to the van out back. They promptly did, wary of the big guy's temper. Once they were out of the room, the man pulled his ski mask up to level the other with a glare.

"The boss said no, so no. Leave her here, or..." He pulled out the hand gun from his waistband. "I have permission to dispose of you." The man gingerly put El down and raised his hands.

"Alright, man. It was just a suggestion." The man with the gun nodded and put his weapon away.

"Good. Crowley doesn't like having to deal with messes." And then they were gone.

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Red and blue took turns painting the siding of Peter's house. The front door was open for agents and CSI could pass through quickly. Peter ignored all of this as he ran up the steps and over anyone that got between him and his wife. The paramedics had managed to revive her pretty quickly, since she hadn't inhaled that much chloroform. She was a bit light headed, but she didn't care about that right then. When Peter spotted her, he grabbed her and didn't let her go for the longest time. He could feel her body shaking with the sobs she had been holding in and rubbed circles on her back, even if he would rather go out and shoot a certain man a few hundred times.

"P-Peter. They took him. They took our son. I don't know who they are, but you have to get them, and bring him h-home." Peter looked into her shimmering eyes, and he promised to do all in his power to fulfill her command. Once he got her upstairs and in bed, he turned off husband mode and went complete FBI agent.

"Jones, any idea as to who did this?" The young agent shot his boss a worried glance.

"No, Sir. They didn't even break the door. The only signs of a struggle are the scrapes on the floor from a side table being shoved violently and the bruises Elizabeth's sporting." Peter saw red for a moment, before quickly shutting it down. They would boot him off of this case faster than he could say tracking anklet before- Peter mentally face-palmed.

"Jones, have you checked Neal's anklet?" There was a pause, then the sound of a phone quickly being dialed. Peter was holding his breath. Jones returned.

"Nothing. There's nothing saying that it's been cut, so they must be using some kind of signal jammer." So these guys were smart, but why jam the signal and not just cut the anklet?

"They are gonna want us to find him at some point. So, he's still in the city. The guys who grabbed him were professionals. We need someone who can unjam the signal somehow, but who?" Diana popped in just then, having overheard them as she was walking by.

"Mozzie He's good with tech stuff. And I'm sure he'd be more than willing to help for Neal's sake." Peter snapped his fingers, then wagged one at Diana approvingly.

"Yes, yes, yes, " Peter's phone appeared in his hand, and it was ringing not ten seconds later.

"Hello? Who-"

"Mozz, we need your help. It's Neal." Not a heartbeat passed before-

"What do you need?" Peter let out a woosh of air he had been holding.

"Can you hack into Neal's anklet? It hasn't been cut, but the signal's been jammed." He could practically hear Mozzie thinking it over.

"I think so. I'll need access to FBI databases and their network. They probably used something that the system recognized as 'legal' so as not to set it off." Peter told Jones and Diana, and they practically ran out of the house to get to the Bureau.

"Done. Get to the Bureau as fast as you can. We don't know what these guys want yet, and we can't waste any time." For a minute there was no answer, and Peter thought he had pushed it, telling Mozzie to come into a government building.

"Mozz, now is not the time to get skittish on me."

"Peter. I just got informed that Frank is meeting with Obadiah Crowley. Peter, the head of the Philadelphia crime family has Neal."

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**Yeah, of Satchmo got hurt, I think I would kill these guys myself. Once again, not Frank. But he may show up later ;) Please review!**


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